


In for a marathon, not short distance

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Injury, Love, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 153,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This starts right after 5.5 (I saw the trailer for 5.6, but the episode wasn't released back then). Quinn had recovered under Hussein's care and offered Dar to go back to Syria with the jihadists. Six months later, his life takes an unfortunate turn again.<br/>He has to rely on Carrie to save him.</p><p>The story tells their journey over the next couple of months, using some material from canon, but mostly non-canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Syria

**Author's Note:**

> The actual turn of events of the broadcasted episodes got obviously ahead of my story, but I hope you still enjoy my version of "what could have happened". English is not my native language, so please apologize mistakes.  
> I will post more chapters over christmas, the storyline is ready, just need to find time to write them down. It is the first time I ever write anything, but I just had to start after 5.5, they were talking to me...

Chapter 1 - Syria

He knew it was over, one way or another. If they'd come again to get him for another round, he would not survive it. If they'd just let him lay here on the humid, cold concret in the cell, he'd probably be dead soon too. He felt the pain, every part of him was aching, a constant, endless agony.

It didn't matter anymore. He was beyond that. He couldn't remember how long it was since they brought him here, for interrogation, how they put it. He had a blurred memory of pain, shock, even embarrasment when they tried to retrieve information from him and he soon had to learn that they knew techniques how to make him talk. Or to put in other words, that he was not enough of a man to keep his knowledge about the CIA's operations and targets when being tortured. In the beginning he had tried to resist, to keep resilient just for just another minute, another hour, another day. But he found out soon enough that in the end he could only surrender and hope for a quick end. They would never let him go alive. So all he could do was hoping for the final exit now.

Since he arrived in Syria six months ago he hadn't allowed himself to reconsider the events which finally had brought him here. The one black ops rule never to forget: never let your personal feelings invade a mission. On a mission he was a tool, sufficient, reliable, but not a man from flesh and blood.

But now his pain-hazed thoughts were drifting away, back to Berlin. He remembered the shock when de-chiffring Carrie's name in his car, right after he had gotten the message from the killbox. After 2.5 years deep in the darkest fucking black ops business in Syria, he had considered himself not as human anymore. A life didn't matter, and as someone had to fight the jihadis and he had both the skills and opportunity, it was him. It didn't matter to him. The last human connection had been cut 2.5 years ago when Carrie did not respond to him when he displayed his feelings for her and being turned down like that after literally presenting himself emotionally naked to her made him just leave and never wanting to come back. No strings attached.

But then, Berlin. He was surprised to find out that there still was something that mattered to him, a last piece of humanity in his lost soul. He knew immediatly that he couldn't kill Carrie. Although he wasn't sure why. Because of their past, because of the feelings he once held for her, because of not wanting to make her daughter an orphan like he himself had been or simply because somehow it rang an alarm in him right away, that her name in the killbox did not fit into the pattern of the other assassin jobs Saul had used him for? That someone was in their operation and the agent in him wanted to find out who and why? That night he had convinced himself, that this professional suspicion was the reason for not going and kill her and more important for trying to find her and help her to get away.

He had planned it as a quick and easy operation: Trace her, get her, knock her out (mostly to spare himself endless discussions, he had to admit that), fake the evidence of her death and then drop her at the train station, off for good. Looking back now, he knew he probably should have taken into account that things with Carrie never go easy, never work out as planned. Plus he had underestimated the effect seeing her, being with her, even under the oddest circumstances still had on him.

When she woke up he thought his walls would hold her at a emotional distance. He felt icecold, nothing new, he had felt like this since the day he'd left to Syria. But then, smearing his fresh blood into her face while she was pleading him to untie her, gave him a shiffer down his spine and aroused him fiercly. For a moment he thought about giving in to that sensation and to fuck her, hands tight up, right there. To proof her that even if she hadn't wanted his love, had rejected him, he still could posess her. But that was just a moment and then it was gone.

When she told him she never stopped looking for him, she really got under his skin. He could barely breathe, when she made that statement and stared intensly at him. How different could the last 2.5 years possibly had been if she had accepted him the night of her father's funeral? But then, here she was, deep into a relationship with someone else, living a civilian life in another country, on another continent. He was pretty sure, that all she wanted was going back to that life and doubted that she had been thinking about him anytime in those Berlin years. And even if she had, you can't turn back time.

So it was time to get rid of her and go back into his own dark business, never cross her path again. He knew that he had sold his soul a long time ago and would probably never make it out, but if she found a way to save her own, he probably should be happy for her. Or at least not interfere. But it was hard, harder than he had ever thought.

Things got really fucked up when he got shot in front of the post office. He knew he was fucked when she had pulled him into the car and drove frantically back to his hiding place. "I'm not gonna leave you, I'm not" - she said. No, she wouldn't, that was his fucking specialty.

His pain was intense, each breath, each movement torturing, and he knew right from the beginning that this time it was really worse. Worser than Gettysburg, and no chance to go to a hospital here. Pain and fear clouded his consiousness and he couldn't help it but allowed himself to just give in and be in Carrie's care. Didn't he at least deserve so much, when he was about to die anyway? He wasn't sure how much she understood, probably not at all, but maybe that was a good thing. Even when his pain and the morphine she adminstered into his hip blurred everything, it felt so fucking good to finally allow himself to be with her one more time. How often had he lay awake at night in the years they worked together, picturing her to be with him, care about him, pay attention to him...these phantasies never included a lethal bullet wound in his abdomen, but even with that, he felt somehow better than all the years before in the desert...well, maybe not better, as the pain was nearly killing him, but happier.

To be allowed to lean into hear, to feel her touch, knowing that suddenly she cared about him - it was somehow ridiculous, that all what he did for her, never made her feel and act that way, no, all she needed was him nearly dying under her hands, and suddenly she cared. Being cold as an icicle had been his only way to go through the encounter with her in the woods and that morning, but now, literally bleeding out, he could not hold his walls up, every minute longer with her, made him melt more, loosing his shield and protection. But it didn't matter anymore. He just wanted to be held and loved, just for once in his life. Just feel some affection and tender, loving care, before making his way out of this shit world.

He briefly thought about if he should ask her about her answer 2.5 years ago, if it really had been a "no", but then decided it was not worth the effort, and that for his last hours he just wanted to live with the illusion, that it had been a "yes". So his thoughts wavered off, memorizing that one kiss he had shared with her, and now feeling her hands on his forehead, feeling her hands holding his. At some point in the middle of the night he wondered if she was lying next to him, but could not hold the thought long enough to check. But it felt good, phantasy or not. He even allowed himself to grap for her hand and snuggle a bit closer.

But still, he always thought, if there was a god or anybody else above, he definitly had a black sense of humor. Letting cross Carrie's and his paths in an unforseeable turn of events like this, just to bring then Jonas, apparently madly in love with Carrie, in. But maybe that was a good thing, as Jonas' sudden appearance made him think more rationally again. Lying here slowly dying and blocking Carrie's attention from other, more urgent matters, was not helpful. The window of time the faked evidence of her death had bought her, was about to close soon enough, so he needed her to turn her attention away from him, deal with the obvious threat to her own life. And when she was gone, he could end his own misery. Jonas seemed to be overwhelmed by the turn of events of the last couple of days, and Quinn wasn't sure, how Jonas would cope with the real Carrie and her past, which out of the sudden became very present, but honestly, he didn't care.

As a normal civilian Jonas would not be able to trace him and follow him, so he just needed to be patient and wait for a chance to sneak out and dumb himself in the channel nearby - he'd prefer a gun but unfortunatly Carrie had taken his gun with him.

Yeah, well, it fucking didn't work out as planned, he ended up in house full of jihadis, getting surgery and recovery literally on top of a terror cell...once again, who ever was up there, he had a black sense of humour.

But in the end, whatever it was, destiny, bad luck, whatever, it brought him a plan how he finally could safe Carrie. Receiving inside knowledge literally on a silver tablet combined with the fact that his doctor-friend was pretty insistent in not letting him die, made him think that there was a task left for him in this shitty world.

He could offer Dar and Saul to go back to Syria with this gang of fucking nuts, take them and their deputy emir out of the game. But only in return for Carrie's safety. That would include Carrie joining the CIA again, because the turn of events over the last couple of days in Berlin had convinced him, that Carrie, and maybe he himself to, would never be safe outside the agency. They had too much blood on their hands, made too much enemies, too much bad decisions to leave that living hell, they once had helped to create.

It would not be easy to talk Dar into this, and everything depended on Saul not being too estranged from Carrie. If he really didn't care the least of a bit for her, he wouldn't agree. But Quinn had been pretty sure, that deep in his heart, Saul still did care, that Carrie was Saul's weak spot, as much as she was Quinn's own. And it had worked out, at least as far he knew. He had talked Dar and Saul into this, wrote a letter to Carrie to explain (and prayed that for once she would listen to him) and stayed long enough in Berlin to make sure she left for the States.

Dar had insisted on one prerequisite: Quinn was not allowed to meet Carrie, to talk to her, not even to call her. He had managed to bribe Saul into bringing her the letter, playing every single card he had on his hand against Saul. And then he had left for Syria again, planning never to come back.

He had sold his soul more than once and he was not going to take any chances on Carrie's wellbeing, if this was the price for it, he was fine to accept it. He had not allowed his mind to memorize her and the events that finally had let him ending up here in that cellar until now. But he knew the end was soon now and when he was honest to himself, nothing in his damn life had brought him so much joy, so much sense of belonging, so much pleasure like being with her.

So if this was the end, this was what he wanted to keep in mind while he was dying. And then he let it go.

Peter Quinn was about to die, closer to death than life.

And his last conscious thought was Carrie Mathieson, the love of his life.


	2. The letter

The letter

 

Carrie,

this time, I will not leave without saying good-bye, so this is good-bye.

Don't search for me, stop looking out for me, come to terms with the fact that I am gone. And make peace with it.

I don't know where to begin but time is running short, so I need to be quick and I need you to read and act quickly.

For once, don't argue with me, just act as I tell you. If you will ever receive this letter, it will be delivered by Saul who has promised to help and protect you, together with Dar. Don't scream out in frustation now, go on reading.

Carrie, I know, I was the one, who planted the idea to life outside the agency in your head, and I am so sorry for that. I was terribly wrong. You can't be safe outside the CIA, neither can I. That is what I learned over the couple of days, and it cost nearly both our lives, I hope you understand that now too.

There is no running away from our past, we have to face it and live with it. We've got too much blood on our hands, crossed too many lines, committed too many crimes, took too many lives. All for the greater good, but still we've sold our souls.

Someone has to, I guess.

So I am not judging what you did, nor do I consider it wrong, someone has to take out the bad guys, but it is time to face, that there is no hiding in a civil life.

The turn of events in the last couple of days made me end up in a house of a terror cell and I was able to infiltrate some of their plans while recovering. I won't tell you more but I am going back to Syria. This is apparently what I am good at, and if a mission finds me even while I am literally about to die (and am fine with that, I guess you figured that out, when I sneaked out of Jonas' watch), I guess there is a reason behind that.

This time I won't come back, I will never cross your path again.

I made your and Frannie's reunion and safety a prerequisite to Dar and Saul for my return to Syria. I probably would have taken the mission anyway, but I am glad they bought it.

Saul will bring you back to the States and probably you will have to go through some verification for security approval but eventually he will transfer you to a relatively safe position Langley-based. You will be able to be there for Franny and you will be safe, at least somehow.

Please, don't fuck this one up.

Don't ever think I sacrificied myself for you. Don't let this define you. I was doomed long before we met in Berlin, and I was planning to go back anyway.

Being able to help you out before, make sure, that Franny will have her mum with her while she is growing up, is probably the only good thing I did for years. If you can't accept that chance for your own sake, do it for Franny. I don't want her to be an orphan, the burden she already has to carry will be heavy enough. So give her all your love, stay sane for her, stay out if harm's way for her, take your meds, and never allow her to join the agency or  not even a police career.

So, here comes the hardest part:

Carrie, I am emotionally numb and broken, I don't feel anything anymore. But I know that the only person in my life I came ever close to feel attached to, maybe even love, was you. Being with you made me a better man. I wish that I either never had told you how I felt or I should have done it long before the night of your dad's funeral. I know that I was a fucking selfish asshole that day, dumbing my shit out in front of you on one of the hardest days in your life and then leaving without giving you at least a day to cope. I know now that this was wrong and that we never had a chance.

In a way I am glad, that we met again. I hope that by giving you and Franny a chance to get back together, I somehow can make up to you what I did 2.5 years ago.

This is good-bye.

Go with Saul, do as he tells you, you still can trust him, I am begging you.

Quinn


	3. Virginia

December

Carrie drove slowly down the suburban lane towards her house. She had bought the place a couple of weeks after they came back from Germany. They'd stayed with Maggie first but when an opportunity came up to buy a small house in the same neighborhood, she had put in a bidding and was surprised when it was accepted.

Her days followed the same patterns every day now. She would drop Franny at daycare at 7.45, then go up to Langley, get Franny on the way home around 4.30, and then run errands, play with her or sometimes drop her at Maggie's and go for a run.

It was good to live close to Maggie who as ever was always willing to help when things got a bit overwhelming for Carrie. Like they absolutely were when she'd left Berlin head over heels in summer.

It was only a couple of weeks until christmas and for tonight they were planned to go to have  dinner with Maggie's family and put the chistmas lights up into the outside trees. Carrie didn't feel very festive though but she hoped it would be fun for Franny.

So far they both had managed well, altough Franny had missed Jonas a lot during the first weeks. Carrie didn't allow herself to worry about things which lay behind or ahead if her, she just tried to survive day by day. She never allowed herself to think about Quinn's whereabouts, as she knew she would completely loose her hard fought composure then. But she'd followed all of his advices and so far, she had to admit, it had done her good.

She was beyond words to be able to live with Franny again and for that she would ever be thankful. While musing in the thoughts about the last couple of months, Franny had started singing her very own version of "we wish you a merry christmas" in the backseat and Carrie smiled at her in the rear view mirror while finally entering the driveway of her house.

Maggie just came down the street and looked slightly distressed.

"There you are. Why don't I take Franny right away, while you take a 5 minute break and I see you then?" she asked, taking Franny out of the car while speaking.

"Jeez, Maggie, why that rush? It is just 4.45, why don't you give us a minute and we..."

"Carrie, I guess, you are having a visitor."

Carrie turned on her heels and - oddly enough - saw Saul sitting on her veranda, apparently waiting for her. Although they had talked every now and then since they both returned to Langley, they never had been able to bridge that rift between them completely, so it was very unexpectable for him to linger around in her garden.

She lifted Franny out of her seat, kissed her briefly. "You go with aunt Maggie and I'll unload the groceries. I'll see you for dinner." Franny ran to Maggie and gave her a hug, all excited about the christmas decoration.

Carrie took a deep breath, trying to steal herself for whatever mischief Saul was probably about to bring, given the odd location he chose to talk to her.

"Saul."

"Carrie."

He looked at her and she thought for a moment that in eyes were pain and guilt.

"Carrie, sit with me."

"No. Just spit it out. Say what you have to. Why are you here?"

He sighed. "I am flying to Germany tonight. And I thought you might want to come with me."

"Are you kidding me? I am not going back. Why should I?"

"This is not what you think. It is not about work. Well, not in the usual way."

He took a deep breath.

"Carrie, it's Quinn. They found him. In Syria. Apparently in a bad shape. In one of the Assad's regimes torture cellars. Closer to death than life. They fly him to Ramstein as soon as they stabilized him enough to make it through the plane ride. This is all I can tell you."

The harsh reality of his words hit her in her stomach and she felt like she had to throw up anytime soon. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, to focus, just to go through the next minute without freaking out. Quinn. Who once again had sacrificed himself for her. She wouldn't be here, wouldn't be alive, if he hadn't been there for her in Berlin, hadn't traded her security against his very own life and soul. And now he actually had paid big.

Still she couldn't barely breathe but felt a manic rush slowly building up somewhere deep in her. Which wasn't good either. Finally she managed to speak. "How come you are telling me? I bet it's classified. Does Dar know you are here?"

"It is classified. But he named you as next of kin in case of an emergency."

"When did he do that?"

"Before he left to Islamabad."

"Well, that doesn't count then. Things were different back then. I am sure he wouldn't still want that."

"But he never changed it. Which means legally the agency has to inform you. But I'd come anyway, even without that."

"Why?" Saul hesitated for a moment. "I know the asset who helped us find and extract him. He called me and said he only moaned one word. Your name."

Carrie had to sit down. Suddenly it all came back. Quinn, all cold and cruel when they met in Berlin, getting shot, nearly dying, the night they had shared in his hiding place, the sepsis taking over his body and mind, the brief moments of intimacy they had shared, Jonas, Quinn leaving, apparently getting better but immediatly going back to Syria, only this time just because of her.

"Carrie, we have a plane going out at 10 pm. Are you going with me?"

"Of course I am. I owe Quinn my life, and if you and Dar had listened to me in Berlin, none of this would never have happened. Of course I am going to Germany, but don't expect me to be thankful. Send someone to pick me up at 7.45. I'll arrange things with Maggie and pack. But tell me one thing: what to expect?"

"Let's prepare for the worst. The medics don't know if he'll make it. Infected burn wounds, broken ribs, all fingers broken, a broken leg, pneumonia and apparently a spleenic rupture plus kidney failure.That's what we know now, probably there is more. He lost consciousness when they evacated him by car to Turkey and never regained it since. He might be dead by the time he arrives in Germany."

When will all that suffering ever end, Carrie slilently asked herself while going inside. She felt an urge to run up the stairs and get ready, while at the same time she only wanted to hide under her bedcovers and wait for the sudden sensation of Quinn being back only to be about to die to sink in and cry her pain out.

But she had promised not to leave him and now, probably now it was time to keep her word, so she just had to get ready and brace herself for whatever may come. She dragged a suitcase out of her closet, threw some clothes in, rushed in the bathroom to collect her toiletries and her meds, suddenly hesitating. She felt something building up in her chest, right since when Saul had told her Quinn was dying . Probably it was time for an extra dose of mood stabilzisers, she wouldn't be a great help for him when being on the verge of mania. She even took the time to count her pills and calculate how long her supplies would last, 2 weeks, that should be enough.

2 weeks...and she had to leave Franny behind. Franny, who still was struggeling to settle in the new enviroment and kindergarden, who ended up in her bed co-sleeping every night. But how could she not go and try to be with Quinn in time. Without him, she would never made it out of Berlin back to Franny.

Quinn, possibly dying. She felt the tears on her cheeks, not knowing if they were for Quinn or Franny or just because she suddenly felt so alone, so empty.

Ten minutes later, she was over at Maggie's. Her sister met her on the veranda, Bill and the girls busy and cheerful in the garden, decorating the lights around the trees, Franny giggling with them. Maggie handed her a cup of tea and smiled at her.

"Are you ok?"

"You know, I guess?"

"Saul called me about an hour ago to ask me if it was ok to take Franny in for a couple of days."

"Uhm, I see."

"Carry, of course we take her. And she will be fine. But tell me why do you have to go. Especially back to Germany, of all places?"

"I can't tell you much as I don't know much. But you remember Quinn, from the night of dad's wake? Well, he needs me. He is dying in Ramstein hospital or about to arrive there to die in a couple of hours. And I owe him big. I wouldn't have made it out of Berlin if he had not been there...for me...with me. And I so often let him down. So for once I have to be there for him."

Maggie sighed. When would her sister's suffering ever end? She hadn't talked much about Berlin but the fact that Franny had been flown to the states in her boss' private plane and the mental state in which Carrie had arrived a few weeks later had spoken volumes. And then she had joined the CIA again and never spoke again about Jonas or Berlin. And now back to Germany. To be with Quinn. She had not forgotten her dad's wake, neither had she forgotten the handsome man who apparently had been very fond of her sister, and then out of the sudden had disappeared and was a forbidden topic since then.

"Carrie, Franny is safe with us. We will have a good time. You go and do what you have do to. But I can tell you one thing: human life is more resilient than you might think. As long he is not dead, there is always hope."

"Thank you, Maggie."

Carrie stayed for dinner, and then put Franny to bed. Even if Franny did not completly understand, she told her she was leaving for a couple of days but would be back in time for Santa. She managed to hold back her tears until Franny passed out, love bunny in her arm. The sight of her sleeping toddler mad her heart burst from love.

And then she had to leave, Maggie standing thoughtfully in the veranda and waving her good-bye not without asking her if she had her meds. Carrie decided to let it go, not to bother and not to argue, she kind of understood that Maggie had to ask.

She met Saul not before they were boarding the plane. Besides a short question if there were any news from Quinn, they didn't talk. Carrie managed to get 3 hours of sleep, spending the rest of the flight trying to brace herself for what might expect her in the next few hours. But how do you prepare to see someone suffering you once loved, to be with someone dying, when still so much is left unspoken?


	4. Ramstein, Part I

Ramstein, Part 1

They arrived in the morning Washington time, in Germany it was midday. Quinn had arrived only an hour before and the doctor's just finished the first assessment and were discussing a surgery plan.

So he was still alive.

Saul introduced both of them, asking if Carrie could see him. The doctor looked at her, sympathecally, and Carrie wondered, if he thought, that she and Quinn...but yes, of course, she was here because he'd named her as his next of kin, so he had to think, she was Quinn's wife or at least girlfriend.

"He is severely injured and sick. I'll be honest with you. I can't predict the outcome if the surgeries. We'll have to take care for his spleenic rupture, fix his broken bones, see hat we can do about the infected burns. We put him on antibiotics just now for his pneumonia and will intube him soon. He looks broken and battered and god knows how much he suffered. I can't promise you he'll live. We'll have to see the outcome if the surgeries and then take it day by day. It is rather gonna be a marathon than a short distance. I am sorry not to have better news."

Saying that he cleared the doorway and let Carrie into Quinn's emergency room unit.

Carrie hold her breath for a second, then slowly approached the guerney. Quinn was breathing with the help of an oxygin mask, apparently each breath a painful struggle, given by the sound his lungs made, indeed looking battered and broken, a man who had lost his last stand.

Carrie sat down next to the guerney, carefully touching a bit of uncovered skin at the back of his hand.

"Hey, it's me. I thought if you run away from me, to safe me, maybe it is time for me to run after you." He looked at her. His eyes were dark, nearly black and not focussing. She was pretty sure he was under morphine, at least she was hoping for his sake. She couldn't see anything in his eyes. She never had been good in reading his expressions and somehow this was part of the misery which had brought him, them, here. If only she'd been able to understand more and earlier, back in Islamabad or even before then. But that was long over. But sometimes his eyes had given him away, had revealed his feelings to a certain extent. But not now. There was nothing, she wasn't even sure if he was there, if he was recognizing her, noticing what was going on around him, with him.

So this was it. This might be the final time to see him, this might be good bye.

The harsh reality of this thought painfully sunk in and she felt her eyes filling with tears. She bent forward, closer to him: "Quinn, it is me, Carrie. You'll be in surgery soon. I will be right here and wait for you. You know, I am not giving up on you, I am not leaving. But if you want to leave, this time it is ok. Then just go and be free. It is ok if you want to die. But I want you to know that not a single day in my life will pass without thinking about you, without being grateful for the life with Franny, without remembering what you did for me. I know you are reliable. And you are more than likeable. You are a good man. There was a time when I was in love with you, I know now. It took me long to understand and I will regret for the rest of my life that I never told you, never showed you. But if you want to be out now, just go and don't worry. I will be ok. You are free. But I will never forget you and always keep you in my heart."

She was sobbing now and a couple of her tears fell on Quinn's hand and cheek. Still, his face showed nothing. No sign of emotion, no sign of recognition, his eyes still deep and dark.

The doctor touched Carrie's shoulder.

"Ms Mathieson, I am sorry, but we have to take him now. We can't wait any longer."

Carrie nodded " How long?"

"Honestly, I can't tell you. We expect it to be at leat 12 hours, but we won't know until we open him up and see what we have there, there might be complications. I am sorry, I wish I could be more reassuring, but..."

"I know, thank you. - Quinn, they'll take you to surgery now. I'll be right here. I will be here, when you come back."

With that, she let go of his hand, bent over and kissed him softly on his forehead. The nurse released the wheels of the guerney and pushed another syringe into Quinn's IV, before she rolled him away. The doctor followed them, promising Carrie to keep her updated. Then they wer gone.

Carrie went back to the ward's entrance lobby where Saul was still sitting, looking at her. She sat next to him, taking a deep breath.

"So, I guess, you knew that there is not much room for optimism here. You took me so I can say goodbye, didn't you?"

"Carrie, I might be an old man and you and I may be in rough patch right now but I wanted you to have a chance for a goodbye. And I wanted Quinn to see a beloved face. Quinn is made of tough stuff, so don't give up on him. I admit it looks bad and I wasn't sure if we make it here in time but now we are here and he is still alive. So don't give up on him."

He reached out for her and offered her an embrace. While leaning against him in silence, Carrie felt tears streaming down her face.

\-------

Quinn felt his body being moved but had no idea where he was. He was wondering if he was dead, and the endless agony was never going to end. He had no religious upbringing, in fact there wasn't anything he ever believed in, he had learnt long ago the hard lesson that there is only one person responsible for a human's life - himself. So he wasn't sure if endless pain was part of the game now, like Dante's purgatory. He always thought that dead would be a silent, dark, numb affair, game out and over. But then, why had he seen her? It had felt so real, like he could have almost touched her. He wasn't able to make sense out of everything she had said, but it had seemed to be a softer version her. So this clearly had to be an image, a fantasy. Real life Carrie would never be so soft, so caring, so open, and she would never ever allow herself to cry in his presence. But still, it was comforting to picture her like that, so if this was going to be the last he saw of her, it was a good way to finally leave her.

Carrie...the only person he ever had been in love with, the only one he had himself allowed to linger around long enough to get this attached. What a shame that he never ever told her. He wondered if Rob would deliver her the nearly 3 years old letter as well.

Well, for what it was worth, at least she would know then: That being with her, getting so attached that he actually cared, scared the crap out of him but that he loved her madly. He wondered what she would feel and think about it, but in the end, he would never find out, so he just let go, gave in to the pain that dulled his thoughts, waiting for the fucking lights blinking around him to disappear, for the strange voices to go silent. ------- He was brought into in OR, when the doctor said to the nurse "I think, he is finally out, never saw someone resisting morphine and anaestesia for so long."

\-------

Carrie managed to let Maggie know she had arrived safely before she curled up in a arm chair in the waiting lounge, bracing herself for the longest day and night she ever had.

Pictures of Quinn, in Langley, Islamabad, Berlin, after the blood bath Javadi made, after she had escaped Abu Nazir, in front of the safe house in Islamabad, were drifting in and out of her mind. She wasn't able to hold on to any of these. She didn't know what to think, not, what she should wish for Quinn, neither what she felt nor what he might choose. They weren't a thing, never had been really, and she didn't know what she felt for him. But she so much wanted his suffering to end, and she wanted a chance for herself to prove him that she really was using the chance for a life with Franny he had provided her.

But still she had meant it, if he was ready to leave and die she would release him and let him go, not longer being responsible for her well-being.

In the beginning tears would just stream down her cheeks but when night settled in, she was beyond crying, no more tears left. Saul had stayed with her for a couple of hours and had left for a meeting with the BND in the afternoon, but promised to check on her before he was going to fly back to the States the next afternoon.

He hadn't questioned if she was joining him or was going to stay, he was pretty sure, that she would stay.

"Carrie, this will take as long as it takes. Let me know if you need anything. I'll pick you up when you want to go home. Don't worry about work, just be with him. I owe you both, and I know that."

She didn't respond. He sighed and went to the door, only then turning once more back to her. "You know you are the daughter, I never had. And you know...that for fathers it's sometimes difficult to let their daughters make their own decisions, choose their own paths."

Carrie simply nodded, looking at him with a small, sad smile. When he was gone, she simply sat on her stool in the lounge, waiting for the minutes and hours to come and pass. She knew Quinn fought for his very life somewhere, and this time none of his black ops skills were helpful.

For the first time within years she allowed her mind to walk back to the night of her dad's funeral, to the one kiss she and Quinn had shared. He had offered her something precious that night, opening the door to another life with him wide open, throwing himself all in. Only she hadn't been able to see it back then, how much emotional cost this must have taken from him, how disappointing her reaction must have felt for him, how she and her fucking selfish insecurity had sent him right back to war...and in the end to this very day, here in this hospital. And she allowed herself the memory of that fond, tender, yet passionate kiss, how good it had felt, how much longing had been into it. She had absolutely no idea, where they were heading to now, but while waiting for the outcome of Quinn's surgeries, she made herself the one promise in her life that she would never break: Whatever it might take, this time she wouldn't leave him alone, she would be with him for whatever was coming, until he would be able to decide for himself.

 

\----------------

It was still dark on that german winter morning when Quinn was rolled into the ICU unit after 17 hours of surgery. The doctors told her it had been close, and he wasn't out of the dodge, but that there was hope now. But still, they were in for a marathon, so they had to take it hour by hour, day by day. The nurse wheeled in a comfy armchair and left her a tray with a cup of tea and a sandwich, telling her to rest now, it would be at least another 8 hours before to expect him to wake up, then dimming the light and turning the sounds of Quinn's heart monitor down to minimum volume before she left the room. Then they were alone. Carrie looked at Quinn's pale face, white like bedsheets, dark circles under his eyes, fresh and old bruises, lines around his eyes and mouth deeper than she had ever noticed before, even now, apparently deep in a narcotic rest, he looked worn out and beaten, and exhausted. He was thinner, he always had been sleek, but in a healthy way, a man who took care about his physical fitness (well, most of the time), but now he seemed fragile. She saw some fresh burns and cuts at his naked upper torso, making her shiver when she thought how might have gotten those. She remembered Brody's scars and marks from his very own torture suffering, and these looked similar. She wondered if she'd ever learn what happened to Quinn since she left him in Berlin, and then wondered, if she really would like to know. Time would reveal, she thought, now it is just time to take it hour by hour. The chest tube and respirator made annoyingly regular sounds, and she felt her own tiredness claiming her by the soft ssshsssh of the machine. She moved her chair closer to Quinn's bed, and touched his hand briefly. "It's me. I am right here and I won't go away. I am glad you made it this far. Now take your time, I am here." Then a long day's exhaustion took her, too, and she fell asleep.

\------------

In the end, it took him almost three days to come to the surface. Carrie only left the room for quick shower and bathroom breaks, skype calls with Franny every day once, and kept sitting in the armchair next to his bed. The nurse had told her, there was probably a good chance he could hear her and so she tried to talk to him. Which was difficult for her. She didn't want to talk about bad memories, so Islamabad, Berlin, Brody - all those were forbidden topics. And as they had never shared a private life, there wasn't much left to talk about. She felt ashamed, realizing that she had never really allowed him into her life. So she told him about Franny, about her own childhood, about her mum and how she herself had been diagnozed with bipolar disorder the first time. She told him about her lonliness she had felt ever since then and how much better she felt now with Franny. The nurse who monitored Quinn's heart rate and brain activity was surprised by the effect of Carrie's voice on her patient, it was both triggering his brain activity but yet soothing his heartbeat. When Carrie felt exhausted after confessing so much to the pale statue of Quinn, she changed to read out loud to him. She wasn't sure about what book to choose, certainly not a spy novel, certainly nothing including love and relationship, but what was left then? In the end, she decided for Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, reading page after page, hour after hour. It soothed her, getting into the rhythm of the story, not checking time, just keep on reading.

\------------

Quinn could indeed hear her. He just couldn't make out where he was, and why she was here with him. He could hear her voice, sometimes grapping single sentences, sometimes just the sound of a calming voice of hers, but not being able to make any sense out of it. Maybe he wasn't dead after all. But who fucking cared? He remembered being a little boy, his mum reading stories to him, before everything went to pieces and things were never the same again. But the early years had been good, at least this memory felt good.

\------------

It was the 3rd night when Carrie felt she could not go on reading. She had barely slept the nights before, missed Franny badly, and had no idea, if this whole reading thing was doing any good, except maybe of her feeling less useless to him. She put the book down and walked to the window to open it for some fresh air. The winter night felt crisp and clear and a few snowflakes made their way down from the sky. So determined she was to make this right, to be here with him, she wondered if it was the right call, if he would have wanted her here, if he could choose. She had no idea about her feelings for him, but she knew she could not leave this time, she would always regret it. She shivered in the cold but didn't want to close the window, the fresh air helped her to think straight and clear. No, this was exactly the right place to be right now, Quinn had done more than this for her more than once. She heard the sound of a plane starting, a deep howling voice, and closed the windows. And then, everything happened so fast.

\------------

Her voice was gone, the temperature in the room fell and then he heard the noise. And he was back in that cold cell again, hearing screams, strangers' voices, smelling burnt flesh, and he could not let that happen to him again. So in an enourmous last effort he rised, pulling every restraint from his body, moaning from pain, panic and exhaustion. His sheer instincts took over, he felt the adrenaline rushing and knew it was either escape or die, literally his last stand. He felt being grapped by multiple hands, suddenly lights everywhere, hands trying to push him back, to restrain him and pushed them away, trying to make out a direction to get out. Why couldn't they just shoot him and let this end? But he knew they wouldn't, so he had to try, in a last desperate act, pushing them aside, trying to rise on his feet, pulling away every restraint.

\----------

Carrie felt like spellbound, staring at the scene happening right in front of her eyes.

Within seconds Quinn had woken up, trying to get out of his bed, pulling out the tube, IV, heart monitor, oxygyn mask. Immediatly the nurse had called for help and had tried to hold him back, alone first, then with the help of three male colleagues. Quinn's eyes had been wide open, but he was non-responsive to them trying to talk him back to senses. Even with his casted leg, taped hands and bandaged wounds he was still strong and - it just hit her - fighting for his life.

Apparently he has no idea where he was and something had put him back into survival modus. One of the nurses had managed to administer a shot into his arm which slowed him down, but still he tried to escape, with raging breath and freshly teared open sutures. They tried to push him back to bed and to restrain him there. Finally she was able to move again, to process what she saw. She could not let this happen.

"No, please don't. Please don't restrain him, don't do this, it will only make it worse."

"Miss, we have to. He will only harm himself, let alone the staff. If he isn't cooperating, we have to."

"No, I can talk him down. Please, let me at least try."

She was at the bedside within 2 steps, stepping into Quinn's visual field, just 2 inches away from his face.

"Quinn, I am here. It is me, Carrie, I am here. Right in front of you, with you, you are not alone. You are in Germany, at a hospital. You have been in Syria, but you are safe now. I am here, you are not alone, nobody will harm you. I won't let anything happen to you, I am here. You have to lie down now, taking the medical staff to take care about your injuries. Even if that hurts, it is for your own sake. Trust me, I am here."

He looked at her, eyes wide open, his lungs making a whistling sound, sweat on his forehead, legs shaking, but still every muscle tense. She wasn't sure, but she thought, she saw a glimpse of recognition in his eyes, just a tiny sparkle of conciousness.

"You have to stop fighting, or they'll have to restrain you. Believe me, I know what I am talking about. You saw me at my worst, back then in hospital, so don't let this happen to yourself. We'll figure it out and I'll be with you, but lay back down now, ok? They will let go of you now but you have to promise not to do anything stupid then. I promise, nobody will do you any harm and I will be with you, ok?"

She nodded at the staff, and with a doubting glance back at her, they loosened their grips, but not letting completely go. Carrie carefully took his arm and they let go and stepped back. She guided him slowly backwards, feeling his muscles still being tense under his hot skin. She helped him to sit on the bed, bent down and lifted his legs up to rest them on the bed too and carefully put the oxygyn mask over his nose and mouth.

"Quinn, I am letting the doctor now check on your wounds and they'll put you back on IV, but nothing else, and I will be right here, you can see me."

Through the whole encounter, he hadn't spoken a single word, but still looked at her. She moved back to the window, only to give the staff room to take care for him. His doctor followed her, talking with a low voice: "Miss Mathieson, even if you were right, you can't interfere with us in such a dangerous situation. I read his files and am pretty aware of what he could be capable of and I won't put my staff on danger again. If he tries that again, we'll have to fix him to his bed."

"Oh, please, can't you see what happened? He woke up, panicked, had a flashback. The harm he probably did to himself was much bigger than the fucking danger for your team. I mean, look at him. He wouldn't make it out of this hospital alive. Please help him to adjust. He had no idea where he was, probably thought, someone would be torturing him again. He doesn't need restraints, he needs help."

"Which he is just about to get, if he let's us. We won't intubate him again and see if he can manage without, but he needs the oxygyn and the IV. It is not unusual to awake from a coma with disorientation and panic, and that will probably linger for a couple of days. But I have to admit, you really talked him down."

"Quinn, listen to me, look at me. They'll fix your bandage, you have a nasty cut on your chest, it's bleeding again. No intubation, but they have to put you back on the monitor and the IV. But I am right here, nobody is going to harm you, I promise. Just stay calm." She touched his hand, but immediatly he started trembling and his breath increased. Oh god, what had they done to him? Even a gentle touch put him back in panic mode.

"Ok, I see, touching is not good, I get that. I'll stop, but the doctor and the nurse need to check on you now. They will have to touch you, just stay calm while they are at it, will you?"

She turned to the doctor, "is there any tranquilizer he can have? I have seen my share of PTSD and this will not be easy now." The nurse pushed a syringe into Quinn's IV, then fixing it back into his left hand. He bit his lip, while she did, every muscle tense, his jaw bones working, and then, when the IV started running, relaxing a bit. So they could fix him, check on him and settle him for the night. Finally they were gone. Carrie sat back into her armchair, pulling it closer to the bedrail. Quinn's eyes were open, but he wasn't looking at her. He was breathing rattled, but regularly and seemed less agitated then before but still so raw and vulnerable, that it broke her heart. She wished she could touch him, offer some comfort but thought this might be a terrible idea. "Hey, I am glad you are awake. I am so glad. We don't need to talk. But I want you to know, you don't need to be afraid. Nobody will harm you. I know it hurts, but you'll get better. I guess, you do hear me, don't you?"

Finally he looked at her, slowly turning his head towards her. His eyes still wide open, a well of pain, panic and emptiness. She had to swallow hard and to fight down the urge to touch him, comfort him. He said nothing.

"Quinn, do you understand me? Can you nod or blink?" He nodded, slowly, just a small movement. Then he turned away and closed his eyes. Carrie felt helpless, this was new territory for her, she had no idea what to do or say. He was back, but in a way he wasn't. She sat in silence, finally assuming that maybe he had fallen asleep again.

\---------------

But he hadn't. He was awake, trying to make sense out of the recent events. Apparently he was not dead, apparently Carrie was with him, in a hospital. What the fuck, how had he gotten himself into that. His whole body was burning pain, he could feel it under a layer of - probably - morphium. Breathing was difficult and painful and he was scared to death by the fear and panic he had felt when he woke up. Oh God, why didn't he fucking die in that shithole in Syria? More pain, more fear, he just had enough of it, just wanted to be out. And then he fell asleep again.


	5. Ramstein, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn will leave the hospital soon and Carrie is preparing to take him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of a transitional chapter, maybe a bit boring, but it get more interesting soon. And of course 5.12 just didn't happen....

The next days didn't change anything for good. Quinn didn't talk, often woke up moaning, covered with sweat, panic in his eyes. Being touched seemed to be torture for him, even the slightest movement put him in a state of panic, his body stiffening, breath getting ragged and irregular, heartbeat hitting new records. When he was awake, and the doctors or nurses had to touch him and told him before, he gritted his teeths and hold on to the bedrail, afterwards curling in a fetal position, slowly calming down.

Carrie went on reading out load to him, as it seemed to soothe him, at least it wasn't agitating him. They'd finished Mark Twain and Carrie had chosen Charles Dicken's A Christmas Carol. Carrie loved the story about the "cold, bleak, biting" christmas eve, when Ebenezer Scrooge is confronted with the ghosts of Christmas past, present and yet to come. And when the ghost revealed Tiny Tim's desperate fortune she had to cry, even if she knew, it would not happen, he will be safe. Yeah, she thought, he will be safe, I wish I could say that about Quinn's christmas yet to come. She told Quinn about the Muppets' version of her favourite winter tale, how Maggie and she still liked watching it and how much she was looking forward to watch it with Franny in a couple of years.

While she was reading, she often thought she felt Quinn's eyes on her, but when she looked up, he was staring up to the ceiling. Just twice she got his gaze and was bone-frozen by the emptiness in his eyes. 

She started to wonder if she was doing any good for him, but then decided that he would certainly find ways to tell her to leave if he wanted that.

Therapy or anything else besides the daily checks on his wounds were impossible as long as he kept panicking by the slightest touch.

At night, when he was asleep, she often cried. She managed to pull her shit together during the days, but the nights were long, lonely and tearful.

\------------

Sometimes he heard her crying at night, but could bring himself up to care about her. Nothing didn't matter any more. The irony was, be careful what you wish for. He got exactly what he wanted, being back with her, but it wasn't important any more, he just wished he wouldn't be such a burden for her, that she'd leave him alone. But still, her reading and talking felt like the only connection to sanity, and often guided him into sleep.

\------------

He was healing and with no therapy going on, there was no reason to stay in the hospital, his doctor told Carrie one morning in his office. He wanted to know to where he should send Quinn after discharging him from hospital.

"He needs rehab, serious rehab. For his lungs, respiratory therapy, plus pysiotherapy for his leg. And there are places to take care of his mental...well, state. Either here or stateside."

"I know those places and this is not gonna happen. I am not sending him to nut house. He is going home with me."

"Miss, I guess, you don't understand. Peter Quinn's still severly sick, needs treatment, different kinds of therapy and first and foremost help with his PTSD. Even if you would take him, there is no way to arrange all this in a private home."

Carrie took a deep breath "Legally spoken, as I am his next of kin, who will have the last word in this matter?"

The doctor surely found her fucking annoying and obnoxious, but she had made her point. Still, she was a bit overwhelmed, because honestly she had no idea, how to go on from here. But she knew putting Quinn in a rehab facility would kill him. 

So she called Maggie and told her everything, which was painful, but necessary. Maggie was wise enough not to doubt her sister's decision, also Carrie could hear it in her voice. "Maggie, please, I can't, I just can't let him alone, I owe him everything, and I let him down so badly both in Islamabad and in Berlin. If I don't get it right this time, I don't know how to cope. How can I sign him to the psych ward, knowing what it is like there? And knowing him? I could never ever forgive myself. There has to be another way. Please."

They agreed on settling Quinn in Carrie's downstair's guestroom, which had been unused til now. Maggie promised to get a height adjustable bed and to ask Bill to fix a handrail and a fold-up seat in the shower in the downstairs bathroom. And she would find a physiotherapist for daily home visits. God, Quinn will fucking hate this, Carrie thought, suddenly feeling insecure about her decisions. But he was still weak, his leg not being back to useful at all, no way to get him upstairs, let alone get into a shower unassisted. And after her christmas break she had to go back to work. If he only would communicate with her. She was sure he could here and understand her, she could tell he liked the reading but he didn't react at all when she was asking questions, trying to talk. Well then, it was her call to make that decision for him. And as far as she was concerned, she wouldn't let him alone in a mental rehab facilty.

When he woke up she told him they were going state-side the next day. He didn't react. She asked him if he was ok with her going to the next town for a couple of hours getting some presents for Franny and clothes for him, but he didn't react on that either. When she came back a couple hours later, she found him curled up in fetal position his bed, covered with sweat, his eyes telling her that it had happened again, he was right in a flashback, overcome by panic, shaken by fear. She cursed herself for not being with him when it happened. Still not comfortable with physical closeness and comfort, the only thing she can do, is talk to him and wait for him to return to conciousness and the present. It breaks her heart and she wished there was any other way to help him. Usually he fells asleep after these episodes and while he was sleeping, she studied his face. Still so beautiful to her, cheekbones casting sharp shadows to the sunken cheeks, sharp jawbone, tossled hair. She shivered when thinking about his eyes, the painfull emptiness they unveil whenever she catches his gaze. Where had he been, what had he suffered, would he ever be able to leave it behind him? Still, she heard his doctor's statement about being in a marathon, so day by day, week by week.

\---------------

They left the next morning, Quinn in his newly bought sweatpants, long sleeves, hoodie and shoes - embarrassing enough she had had no idea about his sizes when shopping for him, but it had to do for now, at least better than the hospital gowns he had been wearing the last 2 weeks. Getting him ready for the trip was a demanding affair. His cast had been removed for an orthopadic splint, but he wasn't allowed to put any more weight than 20 kg on that leg, before he did not gain back muscle mass through therapy - which he was still refusing. Carrie tried to help him into the bathroom, but stubborn as ever he wouldn't leave the bedside until she got him crutches and he could limp in himself, each step a visible painful effort. He needed help to get dressed though, apparently pissed off by that necessity. One of the male nurses had helped him while Carrie has signed the discharge papers and organized transfer to the airbase. 

Now they were on an ambulance aircraft, nobody should say the CIA didn't let their agents travel in style. Quinn was apparently knocked out by the morning's events and Carrie was wondering how about to get along with him at home. She hadn't told him where they were exactly going, as he didn't react to any of her words, she wasn't sure if it had made a difference. While he was sleeping she allowed herself to be happy to see Franny soon, and her family, with christmas just 2 days ahead of them now. She had asked Maggie to surprise Franny and not to come to the airport or outside, as she wanted a chance for Quinn to settle in without any spectators and certainly not a jumping 4 year old between his wobbly legs. Also she had made sure with Saul that there would be nobody from the agency expecting them, just a normal taxi and a wheelchair. She was in a good mood, coming home for christmas, Quinn with her, once more returned from the deaths. Everything else, they would figure out. Still she had no idea how to define her feelings for him. Fear to loose him, compassion, pity, guilt, grief about what he had, they had, lost, a sense of belonging, loyalty, all that. But as well anger and fury, that he never stopped sending himself back to war, tempting his fate again and again. But had she been different? No, not at least not before she had Franny. The last 2 weeks felt like an episode from another universe, she felt like having fallen out of time, after 2 weeks in that bubble of a hospital room. And now, going back, she would actually have to face people, discussing her choices (Saul will give her hell, she knows and she already can picture Maggie's challenging look). But still, she had never been so sure about what she needs to do. He came back, somehow they were reunited and this is her task now. And will crossing the Atlantic Carriee Mathieson had to admit at least to herself that she still loved him, frail and broken as he was, she loved him fiercely and she wouldn't give up on him, never.

\-------------------

They arrived early evening Washington time. Quinn had slept through the whole flight, now awake, but still exhausted. When they drove towards the residential, suburban town he was wondering where they were going. Not that he really cared, but Carrie had been unusual silent since they got out of the plane. When they stopped in front of a nice townhouse and the taxidriver helped him out into the fucking wheelchair so that Carrie could bring him into the house, it hit him out of the sudden: She had taken him into her home. After 2 weeks in a depressive haze this was his first and really lucid moment - for fuck's sake he could not allow this happen - Carrie Mathieson as his nurse. If he could muster his last bit of self-esteem, he could not let this happen. She wheeled him into a downstair's bedroom, what the fuck, even with a hospital bed, and an oxygyn bottle, kneeled down in front of him and smiled to him.

"We are home. Welcome. I know it is not perfect, but it was the next best thing instead of a rehab facility and I figured you wouldn't want that." No, shit, he wouldn't want that. He wanted to die in Syria, not to be a cripple, and definetly not being dependent to Carrie's care. She frowned and had a stern expression on her face. " See, I know this is tough. But we'll figure it out. But I need you to help. No bathroom stunts without help and one hour therapy a day." Great, he congratulated himself to his impeccable talent to end up in crap, like this now, being a cripple, just earning the guilt and pity of a woman he once...well, at least had liked a lot. "See, I have no plan further than this, so we'll have to figure it out. And of course, there will be Franny. I will help you settle in bed, get you some food and then go get her." Oh, holy shit, she was dead serious and he had to admit, is was not that he had a hand full of other options. And he was feeling tired and exhausted again. She helped him settle in bed, put a teatray with sandwiches and tea plus his meds in front of him and was gone. He suddenly felt he was indeed hungry, hated to admit it, though, but he was hungry - and the rest could wait until tomorrow.

\-------------------

There were only two days left until christmas and while Carrie was happy to be back with Franny, she tried to make Quinn feel as comfortable and welcome as possible - which was difficult. He didn't react on anything, still didn't talk, never left his room instead of bathroom breaks, ate what she placed on his tray, but spent the rest of the day in bed, either sleeping or staring out of the window. The therapist Maggie had found came twice but without him participating actively, there was not much room for improvement.

Whereas the days at the hospital had been structured by a set pattern of doctors' rounds, nurses checking in, meals and Carrie's long hours of reading she found it difficult now to share her time between her duties and joys as Franny's mum and Quinn's needs. And she wasn't even sure of Quinn's needs. Sometimes he looked at her, but his eyes revealed nothing, gave her no hint, he just seemed apathetically and so fucking sad. She wished she could comfort him in any way but just didn't know how. 

Bathroom breaks were a difficult matter and after he had collapsed on thr bathroom floor during his first attempt to get himself into the shower and pushed her away, when she was trying to help him, she had called a nursing service to send someone over once a day to help him. She felt bad about it and told him, she'd be happy to cancel it and help him herself, whenever he was ready, but he just kept staring out of the window. 

She couldn't see the tears in his eyes but swallowed her own tears, knowing how humiliating it must be for him to need an aid to get himself into the shower and out of it.


	6. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie and Quinn arrivedback state-side, but things remain tense. Two days later, it's christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all a very happy christmas. Well, christmas is the celebration of hope, so I just had to go on writing, heading towards more hope than recently on screen. I'll continue writing, I guess, it will be a rather long story and I hope you don't mind. I will keep post more in a couple of days.

Christmas was a silent affair. Not for Franny, for sure, who was up at 5 a.m. and over the moon. Her mum was back and there were supposed to be presents at Aunt Maggie's house. Carrie left breakfast for Quinn, who was still sleeping (or at least pretenting), and she and Franny went over to Maggie and her family as soon as it got daylight outside.  
Carrie was glad for the stability Maggie once again provided for her and for Franny, who really deserved a happy christmas. After a long breakfast and unpacking the presents, the girls settled with their new toys and for the first times since Carrie's return the sisters sat down and talked. Telling her sister about Quinn made her cry again. Maggie gave her a handkerchied and another cup of hot tea.

"Oh dear, that sounds like a serious case of depression. But see where you come from. Less than 3 weeks ago it was a matter of life and death. And now he is alive. But he needs help. Professional, that is. Therapy, probably meds, you of all people know that helps."

"I know...but I feel, if I push him into more than I already did, it is gonna be too much. It already has to be so humiliating for him to be so...dependent, helpless, I can't do more against his will, I just can't."

"Do you remember when Dad and I got you admitted against your will to the psych ward the first time? I know how it feels. But I am still convinced that we did the right thing."

"Yeah...but this is different. It feels like...I don't know how to explain it. Demons are pulling him back into the dark and he hasn't decided for either side yet. So I want him to choose life, but he has been to so much, if you could have seen those wounds, had seen him in his flashbacks...I just can't bring him into a facility. I owe him that much, and I will be with him every step it takes."

"You do love him, uhm?"

Carrie hesitated, taken aback by the question. Maggie laughed about her face. "Oh Carrie, you were never one for drama, never one for romance. But what you are doing now, is - as wrong as I consider it professionally - the most romantic thing I ever saw you doing. So whom are you trying to fool? Yourself? It is ok to love, you know?"

"You know what, probably I should just go home, and bring him some christmas lunch. Can Franny stay?"

"Of course, she can."

Carrie walked home thoughtfully, two plate with turkey, stuffing and trimming well packed on her hands. Being completely honest, she had to admit that maybe she herself needed to understand her feelings for Quinn. She owed him, big actually, yes, and she would not allow anybody to do him further harm before he wasn't better, both mental and physical. But putting all that aside, she felt a deep relief that he was again part of her life and she now knew how much she had missed, how much she had been longing for him. Her relationships so far had always included a great deal of sexual desires and pleasures whereas now it was different. She certainly could picture herself being with him, and still wondered how it would be, how he would be, but furthermore she wanted to be with him, to talk to him, to make him feel safe...and loved. For the first time in her life, it was not about what she needed but what she thought her opposite needed. Maybe that was love, she thought, entering her house.

Quinn was still in bed but somehow had managed to change his clothes, she noticed. She set two trays with the food, got a candle and a portable CD player and the book and sat it all down next to his bed. "Merry Christmas, Quinn." He turned and looked at her, studying her face, his eyes not giving away anything. "I thought, we could eat together, just you and me. Maggie made a turkey and we have apple pie for dessert and I know you are mad at me, but it is christmas and..."

He knew, he should say something. If only he could. Most of the time he didn't care that somehow he'd lost his ability to speak, it was helpful in a way because even Carrie usually stopped talking after a few sentences - nobody like to talk to the dumb guy, he figured that. But seeing her next to his bed, christmas lunch on two plates, Franny probably at Maggie's so she could be here with him, stirred something in him. He felt her uncertainty and wished he could make her feel better. Actually, deep inside he knew, he had been quite an ass over the last two days. She had been with him for more than 2 weeks, day and night, not even sleeping in a bed but a fucking chair, had prevented him from being restrained and being admitted to a rehab facility or worse, had generously taken him into her home and tried to make arrangements for him to actually be able to get along in a non-hospital enviroment. It wasn't her fault that he couldn't get himself into the shower, that his leg was a fucking painful mess and that breathing hurt. And now she stood there waiting for a sign of acceptance that it was ok to sit down and eat with him. In her own home. On christmas day. 

Fuck, he hated himself for making her do this. Most of the times, he didn't care for anything and felt like being in a constant fog of emptiness, but suddenly he cared. He wanted her to feel comfortable around him. 

Before he knew, he had stretched out one arm and touched her wrist, indicating to sit down. She winced.

Great, not what he had intended.

He still looked at her. For an instance she saw something in his eyes. A short moment of recognition. She wasn't sure, but it felt like a veil opening for just a second, before closing again. She relaxed and briefly touched his hand before sitting down and handing him a tray.

They ate in silence.

After dinner Carrie grapped the book and started reading again. There were only 2 chapters left and after she had finished those, she put on some music. La Traviata first, then Keith Jarrett's legendary Köln Concert of 1975. She cried when Maria Callas as Violetta sang Addio, des passato bei sogni ridenti (Farewell, lovely, happy dreams of the past) - it had been her dad's favourite recording of his favourite opera. Keith Jarrett's improvised yet masterful piano concert was a relief to Quinn who wasn't sure how to deal with a Carrie who was obviously griefing her dad's loss, as well as mentioning her dad stirred the memory of his disappear after his funeral. 

The afternoon passed quickly and Quinn, who never had had anything close to a christmas celebration in his life for the last 3 decades, had to admit it wasn't too bad. Now, he was tired and felt like he was going to fell asleep every minute but wouldn't want to be rude again. Luckily, Carrie knew him well enough. At the end of the recording, she got up, saying she needed to check on Franny and clean the dishes first. 

He closed his eyes when she left his room, but a second later she was back, blowing the candle. He thought she had left the room again when he suddenly smelled her perfume and shampoo very close and before he really knew it, he felt a light kiss on his cheek. "Happy Christmas" she whispered and off she was. He was too tired to think and so he just fell asleep, this time deep and restful.


	7. Misunderstandings

Things did not really change after christmas, although Carrie felt more confident that Quinn was still himself, somewhere at his core he had remained the same. He had been a little less hostile, made eyecontact more often, but still no therapy, often she found his meds dumped in the toilet (what was he fucking thinking with whom he lived with? there was no way to get rid of meds she hadn't used herself). And still, not speaking.

Maggie reminded her on the fact mutism being a possible symptom of PTSD, because his doctors had been sure that there was no damage done to his voice box. Again Maggie suggested to get a more suitable therapy setting for Quinn and as much Carrie had to admit that she was worried and helpless, she still felt sure about keeping him at home.

What she didn't tell Maggie about though, were the nights, when she heard him dreaming. He was able to use his voice in those nightmares, at least she heard him moan and scream sometimes. Whenever she heard him, she rushed downstairs, into his room, sitting next to his bed, talking to him until his breathing went back to normal. Usually he was soaking wet from sweat by then, vibrating from contained fear, but not answering any of her soothing sentences. She was deeply worried, his suffering made her cry in bed later nearly every night. And she was exhausted. Being a single mum meant she had to be up and awake every morning at 6.30, christmas break or not. Plus, next week she had to go back to work and she had no idea how that should work, with being up every night for a couple of hours.

Silently the days moved into January. Carrie spent the night of Dec 31 alone in her living room, having a glass of wine and wondering what the next year would bring. Quinn had been awake in the afternoon and she had read a chapter of The catcher in the rye for him. When she came downstairs after Franny was asleep he slept too. So she surrendered into the living room, deeply in her thoughts. It was after midnight when she heard him again. He was having a nightmare again, and suddenly she heard a loud thump along with his groaning. When she rushed into his room she found him curled up on the floor, shivering.

"Jesus, Quinn...it is ok. You are here with me. It's Carrie. You are at my house, with me. You are safe. It was just another nightmare." Still he didn't move out of his fetal position, his hands braced over his head. She knelt down next to him, her instincts taking over. For the first time, she dared to touch him after a nightmare. He winced and shivered even more. This had to stop. She crawled behind him and laid down on the floor, behind his curled up back, spooning him from behind. He let out a heartbreaking whimper, his body stiff as steel. Nevertheless she decided to go on and put one arm over his chest. "I am not going to hurt you. Nobody will. You are here with me and it is just the two of us. Trust me, I won't hurt you. You are not in Syria any more, you are here with me and I won't leave you." She went on with her litany, feeling him slowly relaxing the tiniest bit. She slowly slipped one arm under his shirt, carefully caressing his abdomen, chest and lower back. "See, it doesn't hurt each time people touch you. I won't do anything horrible, I just want you to feel better." After endless minutes he finally gave up the curled up position and slowly stretched out a bit, giving her better access to his chest and shoulders, which she caressed with small but firm circles, still spooned behind him. He felt her small frame in his back, a constant, assuring presence, somehow a bridge to sanity. He had woken up on the floor, being in that cellar again, waiting for them to get him, being hit and worse, but now slowly made his way back to reality.

She sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. "You'll get a cold in that wet shirt.", then sitting next to him and massaging his arms with long strokes. "I know your demons, I know how they pull and bite, making you see only darkness, no light, nowhere. But you can leave those behind you, just don't give up. You have done it before and so did I. I know it feels like perpetual darkness, a sea of emptiness and a well of constant pain, but only if you give in and stop fighting." While talking she had mad him sit up and was massaging his neck and shoulders now. Her small hands dug deep into the knots between his shoulders, kneading them with firm pressure until she was able to rub them out. Then she stroke up and down his spine, carefully avoiding his semi-fresh scars. He had lost track of time and had no idea if it had been hours or just minutes. He didn't want it to end and leaned into her, letting out a soft sound. "This is so much better, isn't it? Don't make this so hard, let me help you."

And suddenly the tears started to flow. He sat half-naked on the floor in Carrie's guestroom and couldn't stop crying, while Carrie held him. He cried, for the first time in his adult life and couldn't stop. Carrie felt her own tears coming but swallowed them down, this was his pain and hopefully his carthasis, not hers. So she just sat behind him and hold him, muttering words of comfort into his ear. He cried for dear life, for what was lost and would never come back, for what he had done and what had been done to him, and couldn't stop. He had been wounded innumerable times, had killed so many people, had never allowed himself to really matter to anyone, he felt like a demon from the darkness himself, feeling he exactly deserved what he got now, being caught in the shadows and pain.

But there she was, again, holding him, not detesting him, but understanding his fear and pain. He remembered suddenly how much he had wanted to protect her, to be with here, always thinking that she needed his protection but now it was exactly the opposite, he would be lost without her, she was his only way out. She had looked through him and seen his fight and her holding him was his only connection to reality this night. He wished he could tell her what it meant to him but still his voice didn't form a single word.

When his sobbing eased off she helped him to get up and lay down back on the bed, not letting go of his hand when he finally lay on his back. It was dark in the room, he could barely she her, so he had no idea of the expression in her face, but right now it was enough that she was there. 

He started to shiver again, as he was still wearing his sweat-soaked pants which Carrie sudeenly noticed. Usually he had done everything to avoid her helping him to change but now it didn't matter, as it couldn't be more embarassing as crying in her arms anyway, he thought. So he let her lower his waistband to get rid of them. For the first time since Berlin she saw his gunwound, now completly healed and just a white scar amongst all the other newer ones, which were still aggressive red. But it reminded her of what he had done for here, and a wave of guilt washed over her. Without thinking she leant forward and kissed the scar gently. He inhaled a sharp breath, shocked by the sudden sensation, but didn't move. Her lips stayed on the scar, her tongue lightly touching it. She lowered his boxer briefs, releasing his cock. He wasn't sure if he was just in a dream when she bent over him and used one hand to slip between his legs and cupped his balls gently but firm. Her free hand travelled his abdomen, making his way to his already half erected cock. He hadn't been with a woman for more than a year and that had been an unsatifying encounter in Syria. Since then, unusual for him but sadly true, he just hadn't felt the desire. Even now he was still hesistant, fearing that this could be a massive mistake. 

But then her hand was on his cock, shifting with soft strokes up and down, his erection growing. Her mouth came dangerously close and before he knew it, she bent over him and closed her lips around the head of his cock, curling her smooth tongue around it. He let out a soft moan, bringing up one hand to her cheek and caressing it with his thumb. This was enough approval for her and she slowly started to move his cock into her mouth. She was using her teeth and tongue while her warm, soft mouth engulfed him, while her hand was massaging his balls. She didn't change the speed, it was soft and slow, meaningful, careful, not at all what he had expected her to be in his fantasies years ago. 

When he had observed her sexual encounters with Brody she had been enthusiastic, demanding and wild, asking for as much pleasure for herself as she was willing to grant to Brody. 

The loving and tender passion she gave him now was nothing short of a huge surprise. He started to answer her with slow movements of his hips, wishing this would last forever. He needed her and he loved her and deep inside he felt a piece of his soul moving. Maybe he still did care for something, wasn't completely lost, maybe there still was a way out of the darkness. Maybe her answer had been a yes.

She swirled her tongue around his bell end and his walls tumbled. He felt a tear rolling down his cheek while his orgasm built. The power of his long surpressed feelings for her flashed through him and he knew there was no way back now. He groaned softly, his breathing accelerated and he knew he was close now, so close. Suddenly she moved her mouth down to the root of his cock, taking him all in, engulfing him. The soft moan she let out took him over the edge. He could feel his orgasm build up from the bottom of his soul, taking every concious thought with him, rolling over him, washing the pain away, while he exploded in her mouth. He was falling, hearing white noise, the world turning grey and blurred, there could be no measure for the feelings he had for her, for what she had just given him. He felt the waves of his orgasm rushing through his body and it was like a sudden flash of light on the horizon.

Finally she let go of him and crawled up to lay down by his side. He wanted to hold her, give her back of what he'd just received but he barely could move. She cupped his chin and turned his face towards her, placing a soft kiss on his mouth. "You don't do anything now. I'll help you dress and then we'll sleep. There is plenty of time." He was half asleep before she had pulled a shirt over his head and so he did not hear her whispering "I love you" before she curled up next to him and fell asleep too.

Carrie got up at 5.30 am, she didn't want Franny to find her mum in bed with the new houseguest, at least not now. She wished she could just stay, lie next to him, be with him when he woke up. But that had to wait. She felt a brimming happiness in her stomache, finally he had let her in, had accepted her genuine care and she had found a way to help him through the night, and what a nice way...her thoughts trailed off to last night and thinking of it gave her a shiver of arousal, she still had the taste of him in her mouth. He had felt so good.

Still, she decided to let him sleep, figuring he might need the rest.

She had promised Franny to take her ice skating today but didn't want to leave without a word. Well, Franny would sleep at least another hour and she could use that time, maybe writing was easier than talking.

She sat down with a sheet of paper:

Quinn,

I am not good at this, I already told you. But I want you to know, I meant every single word I said to you in the hospital. I am here, for you. I am not giving up on you and I am not leaving you. We can fight those demons, together.

I am happy about last night. I did not wake you up, because I thought you might enjoy some calm sleep.

I'll be out with Franny now, but maybe tonight, we could have dinner together and, well, I just want to be with you and you decide what you want. In case you ever wondered about my answer 3 years ago: it has been a yes and it still is a yes, if you still want me.

Carrie

She placed it on the kitchen counter and started to prepare breakfast, just when Franny came downstairs. Like every morning she set a tray with a thermos of coffee and several sandwiches for Quinn, this time placing it next to the note. After breakfast Franny got dressed and she allowed Franny to paint in the kitchen while she herself took a shower and got dressed herself.

Downstairs Franny was running out of paper. She had been folding paper planes after colouring the paper sheets her mum had given her. But there was another one on the counter. She grabbed it, using the empty side for her painting, then folding it and letting it glide through the living room. It even flew a spiral on its way down but then slipped between the wall and the couch. Maybe her mum could get it out later for her.

When Carrie came downstairs again Franny was looking at a book, the living room a mess of coloured paper planes. Well, nobody would mind until they got back, so she grabbed her bag and took Franny to the car. She didn't notice that her note for Quinn was gone.

Quinn woke up late in the morning, feeling rested like he hadn't felt in months. He felt a sharp sense of loss when she wasn't at his side but of course Franny must be awake by now. He thought about last night and still felt some happiness. She had been with him, had not given up on him and even more had given him something to hold on to. As huge as his sexual pleasure had been, it was not essence of what had happened. 

But still, he felt bad about not having given her anything in return, he did not even hold her afterwards, did not show how he felt about her. If only he could speak again. While he was thinking, the shadows of doubt were returning. Why hadn't she said a thing afterwards? Why had she refused his attempt to hold her during his afterglow but had told him to sleep? And why hadn't she woken him up in the morning? She had not touched him in weeks and now this. Maybe he had been wrong last night, and it hadn't been a long longed sign of her love for him but just another way to help him through his nightmares. In the end this was Carrie and he knew that sex often had been just a trade off for her, not something exclusive just to be shared between lovers. He thought of Aayan. A wave of shame built up in him, he never ever had expected someone to have sex with him because of pity.

He couldn't hear anything in the house and her car was gone, so he got up and slowly made his way into the kitchen, somehow hoping that she might have left a note. As usual he found his breakfast but nothing else. How could he let this happen, how could he let his guard down so much? She cared for him, she had proven this by being with him in Germany and by taking him here, but that was because because she felt pity and guilt. And honestly she might know as well as himself, that he had no other place to go. So he wasn't questioning her friendship but she did not want to be with him and he had misinterpreted her presence last night terribly wrong. Maybe it was time to get his sorry ass out of her house. What had he been thinking? Somehow he could understand her. He had nothing to offer, being the fucking pathetic mess he was. Why should she feel more than pity for him? He was disgusting himself. She was behaving like his nurse or caregiver. But still, last night she had crossed a forbidden line. He was not some asset who needed to be persuaded and the only thing he was expecting was her respect.  
Still he had no idea what to do now, where to go now. Being honest with himself, there was no way to get out of the house, the way from his room to the kitchen was exhausting and painful enough. He cursed himself for getting himself into this situation but he had to stay and get better. At least good enough to get out of here and...and then? He pushed that thought aside, he would figure that out later.  
But first, he had to make sure that Carrie would not find him in such a weak state ever again. He did not trust himself, the dreams were awful, soul-eating and he was loosing his mind then and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist if she would offer her comforting touch any other night again. But he couldn't persevere Carrie having sex with him because of pity. And what else should she want?

 

When Carrie came home there was no sign of Quinn. The breakfast and the note were gone, maybe he was sleeping again. She went to his room to check on him. The door was locked. She felt like getting a kick in her guts. Well, she had her answer now, for him, it was a no. Her place was good enough for recovery, and honestly, where else should he go, but he didn't want to be with her. Last night had been a one-time encounter and she had to admit, he hadn't ask for it, she had kind of forced it to him while he was out of his mind. Still, it had felt so precious, so exclusive, like a perpetual bond...but again, she had misread his clues. She felt tears building up in her eyes. It was a humiliating thought to picture how he had find her note and had probably wondering what she had been thinking.  
She didn't hear or see him all night. At night, after she had finally cried, she thought about sending him away now but decided against it. In the end, he had done nothing wrong. He hadn't encouraged her, not at all, and it was his right to say no. She just cursed her own stupidity. So he would stay, she would provide care for him and when he finally would recover he would vanish out of her life.

She got up, got ready, left breakfast for him, took Franny to daycare and went to work.


	8. 8 weeks later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we are all still griefing but somehow I still want to go on and finish this story. I always found it a pity how bad the timing is between CQ and how they miss each other each time when a window of opportunity opens up. That is why I used it here, and make Quinn think about it.

January and February were a difficult time. Carrie was back to work and trying to cope with her daily duties being a fulltime working single mum. Quinn spent the days in his room, sleeping or doing whatever. Apparently he was awake at night, she sometimes heard him taking a shower or in the kitchen and sometimes she found a book on the couch in the morning. She nearly never saw him, he was avoiding her since New Year's. She had seriously thought about asking him to move out, but then decided against it. In the end, what had happened? She had fucking misread the behaviour of a still very sick man and he had drawn a line and rejected her. That didn't change a thing about what he'd done for her prior, and she still owed him her life. How obnoxious would it be, to throw him out because he didn't want to be in relationship with her? But still, he made it hard, a simple no or a short letter would have been enough, no need to ignore her completely. She missed him, and it hurt her beyond words how utterly and completly he had locked her out of his life, while still living under the same roof. She had made several attempts to talk to him but he never opened the door. Sometimes she waited for him in the living room but somehow he sensed her presence and did not come out of the room those nights.   
He made it hard for her, so hard, to know he was there, but somehow not wanting to spend any time with her at all. There were nights when she just hoped he would pack and be gone the next morning. Other nights, she was crying in bed because she missed him so badly and would do anything for a chance to reconsile at least their friendship if not more. Maggie didn't make it any easier, asking her several times a week, what was wrong, why she never saw her houseguest, why she was so pale and loosing weight. She was quite insistent, begging her to send Quinn to a rehab facility and to see her doctor herself. At least she did the later one, getting herself on a extra-dose of anti-depressants.  
She felt like she was atoning for all her mistakes in the past while being abandoned by the only friend she ever had. But when she was with Franny, she still felt grateful. If that was the price to pay to get another chance to life with her girl, she was willing to pay it. Deep inside she knew that Quinn could not stay with her forever, but she felt to weak to cope with it right now.

Quinn himself thought a lot about moving out. It had been a tough task to remove Carrie's presence out of his life and while he made sure to nearly never see her, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He still felt unbelievable sad and desperate about loosing her when he just had thought they really might have a chance. She was his one fatal flaw, he couldn't let that happen again. 

Precaution number one had been to change his sleeping pattern, so there was no risk to have another nightmare while she was around. He slept during daytime now. He locked his room whenever she was around and never came out when she was home or awake. He knew this was behaving like an asshole but how could he endure being a pathetic cripple, needing her care, when all she had for him was her pity and her guilt? He was surprised how much it still mattered to him, but somehow that night had stirred him awake, getting a piece of his soul back into the world. He laughed bitterly, wasn't that a fucking irony. All he needed was getting humilated and rejected, and suddenly he cared again. He had started to do the breathing exercises and some training for his leg, but only half-hearted. He knew he should get out of Carrie's life soon, but felt himself incapable of cutting that last weak connection. He despised himself for that weakness but who fucking cared? He hadn't been in contact with the agency or Dar yet, being dumb was kind of helpful to avoid that, but he knew, sooner or later, Dar would find out about his whereabouts and pay him visit. Maybe it was time to haul his pathtic ass into a motel room and take things from there...but still, he couldn't make the decision happen. He spent nights musing about how he'd got himself into this crappy situation, wishing he could speak with his only ever friend about what to do...but what a fucking vicious circle...he'd efficiently cut that lifeline, Carrie didn't seem interested in reconsiling their friendship. But what was he thinking, it had been three years ago that they were friends. Whatever Berlin had been...he honestly didn't know, but sure as fuck not friendship. And here he was, sitting in Carrie's living room, munching her sandwiches (not only she had made them, she'd paid for all his food, medicine, toiletries and clothes for weeks now, he suddenly realized), reading her books and waiting for a miracle. He sighed and put the book down on the head rest of the couch, stretching himself to get his crutches to get up and at least clean the dishes and his own laundry, when the book slipped between the couch and the wall. Great, exactly he needed, some fucking late night exercise. He tried to get one crutch behind the couch but wasn't successful, so he moved the couch a couple of inches forward and bent down to get the book. It had landed next to a piece of paper, coloured with crayons, but he also saw Carrie's handwriting on it. He knew he probably should not, but he felt curious. Probably it was just a shopping list, and in the end, she would never know. He unfold the paper (and couldn't help but was amazed that Franny already was old enough to fold paper planes, somehow he still pictured her as a baby not as the 4 year old she was now).

It knocked him off his feet, he fell backwards on the floor:

Quinn,

I am not good at this, I already told you. But I want you to know, I meant every single word I said to you in the hospital. I am here, for you. I am not giving up on you and I am not leaving you. We can fight those demons, together.

I am happy about last night. I did not wake you up, because I thought you might enjoy some calm sleep.

I'll be out with Franny now, but maybe tonight, we could have dinner together and, well, I just want to be with you and you decide what you want. In case you ever wondered about my answer 3 years ago: it has been a yes and it still is a yes, if you still want me.

Carrie

A wave of guilt washed through him, he felt like throwing up any second, his stomache turned around, his heart felt like breaking apart. His vision blurred, and he cupped his face in his hands, trying to go on breathing. What had he done, what the fuck had he done?! Apparently she had written him that letter on New Year's, the morning after...

 

It had been a yes, her care had been genuine and loving, she had tried to cross the gap and had reached out to him that night, giving him everything she had, and he had rejected her. After accepting the pleasure she had given him...like wanting to try it and then deciding against her like she hadn't been good enough... He instantly knew what this had cost her. She was so vulnerable, given not only her condition but her own history as well as their shared history. This was the most despisable thing he had ever done, if he not already had had his spot secured in the deepest circle of hell, this would grant it, he knew that for sure. She had even told him, how afraid she was of another relationship turning out badly, this had been the reason for her to hesitate nearly 3 years ago. And then, she had thrown everything in, had offered him her love, and he had dumped her. It felt unbelievable for himself now after all those years of longing for her. And even worse, even with him being such an ass she hadn't kicked him out, but still had offered him her hospitality and a home for his recovery.

He felt the urge to run upstairs and talk ( well, just another fucking problem...talking would indeed be helpful but he still couldn't....) to her right now but managed to hold himself back. How would that feel for her, him intruding in her bedroom and nightsleep, apologizing and then asking for her love again? It was unthinkable. And he was fucking scared of her answer. They had missed each other so often and if there was the tiniest chance left to make this right, he wanted to use it. But how? He could have granted her the benfit of doubt back in January when she had knocked on his door, but his fucking fear to be rejected once more had prevented that. He still sat on the floor, feeling nauseous and so fucking stupid. For once, he had held his destiny in his hands, had had a choice, she had opened the door to a lucky life and he had not even noticed. He was utterly unprepared for the turn of events of this night and felt he had to think carefully. Maybe he should write Carrie a letter too because how else should he let her know what had happened and how he felt. But how long should that goddamn letter be? How to apologize for the unthinkable? But what else could he do? Once again, just manouevering himself into her sleeping room as a silent intruder seeming - as appealing as the thought was in a way - not the very best idea.  
She had let him loiter around for 2 months now so chances were that she wouldn't kick him out first thing next morning, which was a Friday. Maybe a Friday night was a better timingthan near midnight on a Thursday. And the writing would be a painful exercise, he knew he had avoided therapy to regain mobility of his broken fingers negligently. His whole existence of the last weeks had been a single act of negligence, he had to face that. So, he'd better start writing now...

Carrie felt exhausted when she drove up to Langeley the next morning. Thank god, it was Friday, just a couple of more hours between her and the weekend. Maggie had invited them for dinner like every Friday and she had promised a visit to the zoo to Franny for Saturday. She wondered when her work had become an inconvenient obligation, once she had literally lived for this place and for what was a symbol. She had just arrived at her office when Dar Adal approached her.

"Carrie, long time no see. How are you?"

She didn't buy for a second that he really wanted to know, so she just looked at him but didn't answer.

"Guess what, I just learnt that Quinn hasn't reported back to HR, let alone me. But his sick leave certificate ended last week, and he hasn't made an appointment with any of the doctors yet, so I was just wondering what might have happened. Have you any idea? I am just concerned."

"I have no idea what he is up to." Which wasn't even a lie, given the fact that they hadn't communicated in weeks.

"Well, I have something coming up for him, but I'll tell him myself. But how about you? Still having dinners with your sister on Fridays?" He snickered and off he was. Subtly, he had let her know that he had been observing her, by knowing her habits. She suddenly felt chilly, and how should she help Quinn not getting right into the next shit pile if he was avoiding her completely?


	9. Dar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter quite early in the process, the conversation between Carrie and Dar was suddenly in my head, as I think we still do not really know about Dar's and Quinn's shared history. I don't believe Dar's version about 16 year old Quinn.

After Carrie had put Franny to bed and walked back downstairs she was wondering why she had not heard anything of Quinn yet. Usually he would start rumouring in his room that time of the day and she was kind of hoping to see him, maybe even try to have a conversation with him, one-sided as they were, but at least she wanted to tell him about Dar's inquiery. 

She had been alert all day, felt something coming, but couldn't put a name-tag on it. Something about the way Dar had looked at her this morning, when he'd ask her if she still had dinner at Maggie's on fridays, had put a shiver down her spine.  
Before she finished that thought she was up again, running upstairs, to get her service pistol from her safe. She placed it thoughtfully on the kitchen pantry when she heard a car slowly driving by. Nothing unusual in a residential area, but still, all her senses told her that something was about to happen, she just couldn't make sense of it. It was chilly outside, now in early March the days started to warm up, but as soon as the sun went down, it still got cold.  
She pulled a dark fleece sweater over her head, took her Glock and went outside, something told her, that maybe it couldn't harm to watch out and be prepared. She just had located herself in the frontyard in the shadows of the large tree, when the car slowly drove by again, only to stop this time a couple of houses down the road. A person got off and made her way back to her house, not without glancing over to Maggie's house, where the windows still were full of light, while her place was dark. Carrie released the security switch of her Glock but hold herself in the shadow. Good thing though, that Dar obviously knew nothing about toddler's bedtime routines. They had been to dinner at Maggie's house but still Franny needed to be in bed by 8 pm, so that damn fucker had obviously just the wrong timing. Of course, he was trying to get through to Quinn when she wasn't around.  
She waited in the shadows until he was four steps away from the threshold, just then stepping out of it.

"Don't you dare to get any closer to my house."  
Dar turned around, a slightly amused expression on his ways when noticing her weapon.  
"Carrie, I just thought it might be nice to have a little chit chat between old friends."  
"Don't give me that shit. You don't chit chat and Quinn doesn't either. He hasn't been that talkative lately. What do you want?"  
"That is none of your business. You can't stop me from talking to him. Technically, he is still a part of my team, still my..."  
"Your guy. Spare me that nonsense, Dar. He is not anybody's guy anymore. What kind of fucking game is that? Sending him on a mission that literally nearly cost him his life, not to talk about his soul, not caring how he is gonna survive and pick the ends up again and as soon as he barely recovers, trying to push him back into that fucking business? That is not gonna happen, not as long as he is under my watch. This is my house, so leave now."  
"Carrie, why don't you put your gun down and we go inside and talk? Maybe Quinn wants to join us?"  
"This is not gonna happen. I have no idea what you are planning but I am not letting you anywhere near him." Not as long he is not sane enough to make sane decisions, she finished that sentence in her thoughts.  
Dar chuckled, but his eyes went dark: "Carrie, I knew you are nuts, but this is ridiculous. He is a soldier, he knew what he signed in for. And if you'd really know him, you'd know that he wants to leave, go on the next mission, as soon as he can. That is his life, that is what he is good at. The best actually. This is him, not this charade of a civilian living you are trying to build here. Whom are you trying to impress with that? Come on, you are not exactly the type of a loving mum and housewife either, I don't buy that. So, what is in it for you? You want another position? Want to bribe me? Want a transfer back into ops? Station chief again?"

"You have no idea, Dar. You don't know me and you don't know Quinn. I won't let you drag this man out of my house. And if it's the last thing I'll ever do. If you go one step further, I'll shoot you. I am asking you again to leave my home and I warn you. So if you don't leave know I even have the right to shoot you to protect my life and property."

"I am the director of the CIA. Even for you it should be fucking obvious that you'll be stuck head down in shit if you shoot me, don't be ridiculous. I should call police with a straightjacket right now. Now put down that weapon and let me pass."

"I won't. And if it the last thing I do. Call me nuts or stupid, but I have never been more lucid in my life. I will do whatever it takes to protect Quinn, as he is broken and vulnerable beyond your imagination. You have no idea, how it is to be human. He is a human being and not a tool you just can fix. If I go down, fine, but believe me, you'll go with me. So leave NOW."

Suddenly Dar put on a dirty grin. "Carrie, Carrie, he must be quite a decent fuck, that you go that far."

Carrie managed not to show anything in her face at all and with all effort she could muster she said calmly: "He sure is. The best I ever had. Are you jealous? You are in for a threesome?"

Dar chuckled. "This conversation is far from being over. Tell Quinn to meet me in my office. Soon. Or I'll be back." While barking that sentence, he turned and went to his car. Carrie waited until he had driven away, then thoughtfully walked back in. She was shocked by the open threat Dar had suddenly brought into her life again but her adrenaline was still high.

When entering the dark hallway, she saw a dark shadow right behind the door and cringed.

"Fuck, Quinn, do you want to scare the shit out of me? Why are you loitering in the dark?" She passed him and entered the kitchen, carefully putting the Glock's security switch back in and placing it at the breakfast counter. While leaning with her back to the counter, she felt the adrenaline rush fading and as her legs started trembling she took a deep breath. Quinn still stood in the dark hallway, watching her, apparently working on something. Suddenly he took a step forward towards her just to stop then again. Seeing her with Dar had set something loose within him.

"Hey, come here." His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper after all those weeks of mute silence. But he spoke. He stood halfway between the hallway and the kitchen counter, in the twilight, intensly looking at her, his arms slightly raised and open. Carrie didn't move, still stunned to hear him talk. He took another step towards her, still holding eye contact. 

And then he was with her, just in front of her, reaching out for her, carefully pulling her into his arms. And just then she could let it go and lean herself into him. He hold her tight, carefully placing his chin on the top of her head, breathing shallow. He felt so good and she just then realized how much she had missed him. He was still thinner than usual, his muscles less tight, but his chest warm and steady against hers. She could hear his heartbeat.

They both stood still, not wanting to break that moment's magic and Carrie knew they just had crossed a wide bridge. She noticed that she was silently crying.

"Sh, it is okay, I am here, it is okay." Still his voice was barely audible. "I am sorry beyond words for what I put you through. I have been a selfish pathetic ass. And I am sorry for what you just had to do outside."

"You heard us?"

"Every single word."

Carrie felt slightly embarassed as she had not forgotten how she had finished the conversation with Dar. And she knew the old Quinn would do anything but let such an opportunity pass. And right, just then she heard a smile in his whisper: "Tell me about me being the best fuck you ever had, uhm? How come you know that? As far as I rembember I was more on the receiving end...which is shameful enough. "

She had to give him the credit that he didn't make her look at him, still holding her tight. Being so close to him, gave her a pleasant shiver down her spine but she didn't move and didn't answer.

But he was not going to let her of the hook, obviously being quite amused. "So, I guess, once again I owe you. Not just my life but the proof of being a great fuck as well."

"Yeah, well, I guess so. But as long as you aren't having enough breath to make it up one flight of stairs without a break, I guess you won't be that great."

He released her and held her at arm's length, again making eye contact, a hint of a smile lingering in his face: "Well, I was just waiting for a reason to start training."

She smiled back, not saying anything. 

"May I sit with you? Just for a while?"

She nodded and took two glasses and a bottle of wine with her towards the living room. They both sat down on the couch, Quinn pouring the wine, but not switching the lights on. Carrie wasn't sure where they were heading to, still amazed about the unforeseen turn of events of the evening.

Quinn cleared his throat. Speaking was obviously not easy for him. "You don't need to talk." Carrie said. 

"I know and I can't, at least not for long. But I want you to know that I am glad. And that things will improve. There will be more talking soon, I promise. I need to tell you..." "Ssh, not now."

She smiled at him. The unhappy encounter, spooky and scaring as it had been, was far away, and for the first time since weeks she felt that maybe Quinn was going to be back. So they just sat, silent, sharing the wine. The silence was not uncomfortable, it wasn't lingering anymore as a constant proof of Quinn's obiously unstable mental situation. Unlike the past weeks, it was peaceful.   
She felt her eyes getting heavy but was afraid of interrupting the unexpected intimacy they suddenly shared that evening. Quinn still watched her, his body much more relaxed and less tense as all the weeks before. She wasn't sure what to read in his eyes, but it was different. Less pain, less ice, it was...like she was getting a glimpse of the old Quinn, a proof, that he still was there, burried amongst the horrible things he had to go through but still there. As much Dar's sudden appearance had frightened her, she was in a way thankful. Finally, overhearing her conversation with him had woken Quinn out of his apathy. What he had given her tonight was more than she had dared to hope for. For the first time since that New Year they were really interacting. As much as she had been longing for a word from him as surprised had she been when he not only spoke to her but embraced her and picked up the last lines of her fight with Dar, not just joking but kind of...flirting with her. She was not sure what to make out of this, if he just was picking up they way they had used to tease each other and bicker around 3 years ago or if he really still had feelings for her. This was Quinn, and she never really had been able to read him. But she wouldn't figure this out tonight. Suddenly she felt bone-deep exhausted.

"Go to bed. I'll be awake and watch."

She thought for a moment but then decided to go for it and just ask: "Why do you only sleep at daytime? Is it about your dreams? Do they only come at night?"

She was afraid that she was asking too much but couldn't stop herself from wanting to know. Quinn just looked at her, his face unreadable. Finally he spoke: "No, but during daytime you and Franny are not here and won't hear me screaming."

She didn't know what to answer, just inhaled deeply, swallowing the tears, feeling how much it cost him to reveal that to her. She would give everything to make it easier for him, to share his burden, to take some of the pain away from him.

"You can talk to me, you know?" "Yeah." 

"Will you ever tell me anything about it?"

"No, I won't." Again his voice was barely audible and his eyes got darker. "I will never take you there. Never. Nobody deserves to be there, to go there, to hear about it - and of all people at least you. I will be damned the day, I burden you with that. Because, once I told you, you will never be able to forget and I am not doing this to you."

He raised his hand and caressed her cheek bone. "And now go to bed. I'll see you in the morning. Good night." 

This was new too, usually he retreated back to his room long before she was down in the mornings.

So she finally got up and made her way back through the kitchen to collect her weapon. "Good night then." Just then she decided to go one step further and went back to the living room where Quinn was still sitting. She bent forward and gave him a brief hug and kissed his cheek softly. "I am glad you are still here. Thank you for tonight." He touched her hand briefly, her kind acceptance nearly unbearable for him. What he had done to her and still she was offering him her acceptance. He was beyond words and suddenly felt ashamed about his crappy letter. A written statement of his unability to handle feelings. She earned so much more than this. Now as his ability to speak somehow had come back he had to talk to her, but he was to afraid to stretch his luck for this night, so he just blinked a tear in his eyes away and said gently "Good night Carrie, I'll be here in the morning".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will take me a couple of days to go on but I hope you stay with me.


	10. Later that night

He heard Carrie upstairs, putting her weapon back in the safe, using the bathroom and finally entering her room. He still sat on the couch, unable to move, unable to organize his thoughts into rational thinking. He felt like a fucking miracle had happened. Who would have thought that in the end it would be Dar bringing them unvoluntarily back together and - kind of helpful - his voice back.  
He chuckeled, Dar would rather eat his shirt than doing Carrie a favour, his grudge towards her was long-bred and genuine, and he would hate the thought of being the saviour. But he remembered one of the shrinks talking about a trauma sometimes needing an external trigger to kind of unlock. So hearing Dar subtly threatening Carrie had done the trick. If he had knewn it would be that easy Dar would have been happy to pay him a visit earlier, he thought bitterly.

He heard Carrie walking around in her room, then out again, probably briefly checking in on Frannie, then in her room again, and finally silence. He couldn't help but picture her changing into her nightgown, holding her close had kind of kickstarted his libido. He felt slightly ashamed and pushed that thought away too. Far too early. But she had felt and smelled so good.

Maybe it was time to do some planning and use the night for good. Because nothing was settled yet, and he was well aware that he was still a sick man, who hadn't undergo any important therapy yet. Plus, even if Dar had been pretty helpful tonight, sooner or later he would have to deal with his future in the CIA too. And he was kind of stuck here in the suburbs, not even owning a car. Well, maybe he should start from there, get himself a ride, make some appointments with therapists and try to get some disability leave from the CIA to figure out his shit. He knew enough about PTSD and depressions to understand he was far from being out of the mud, but at least he cared again. And as much as he hated it, he would need help. For starters, he owned nothing excepts the 10 shirts, boxer briefs and sweat pants Carrie had gotten him. Maybe it was time to invest some money and time in his looks again, too...in his experience, sweat pants never did a great job when it came to seducing a woman...

Carrie was in bed, damn tired, but antsy at the same time. She had no idea what had happened tonight, but it had felt good, so good. She remembered being in his embrace, feeling his warmth against her body, smelling him and hearing his voice, husky and hoarse, but finally speaking again. She had no idea what finally had brought him back, if just time or Dar's sudden appearance had stirred him awake again. Dar...she felt a bit guilty about threatening him with her weapon, not because of him, he could cope, but her actions had been a proof to herself how stressed out she was and how much she had to take care not to loose it again. She hD been stable for so long now, longer than anytime before, and she was afraid to loose her carefully gained balance.  
But maybe things would get easier now, just maybe she and Quinn could...no, way too early. But for now, she decided to call it a happy day and to go to sleep now, taking the feeling of being with Quinn with her into her dreams.

The next morning she woke up with a jump. Her room was already full of daylight, given the time of the year, it was probably at least 9 am. She felt rested for the first time in weeks but where was Frannie? She was probably awake since at least 2 hours. So she jumped out of the bed, checked her room and ran downstairs, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. There she was, with Quinn, preparing pancakes. They both looked up, the kitchen a mess, but Frannie smiling at her. "We watched Dora Explorer and now we are making breakfast. I already ate two. Peter said you need to sleep in today."

"That is very sweet, honey. Good morning."

Quinn came around the kitchen island, handing her a mug of coffee, briefly touching her hand. "She came down at 6.30, looking for you. I hope watching DVDs was okay?" Still his voice was ragged.

"Of course. And it was really good to catch up some sleep. Thank you."

"Mummy, sit down, pancakes are coming."

They had breakfast silently, except for Frannie's excited chatter about going to the zoo later. She asked Peter to join and he smiled at her. "Thank you, but I need a break, and I guess you and your mummy need some girls' time." She giggled. He seemed nice, now as he was talking. And usually she was never allowed to watch ten episodes Dora in the morning.


	11. Things getting in motion

When they were gone, he slowly got ready for the day. He knew he had to take it easy but getting himself busy suddenly seemed easier, given the alternative was to think about how to explain Carrie why he had been behaving like an impertinent asshole. In the end Dar had been right, this life was a charade of mudane living and it was up to him now to make it right...or to leave, if it was to late and she didn't want him anymore. Fuck, he did it again, all that pondering. 

So he called a cab, grabbed the spare key Carrie had given him weeks ago and started his tour through town. ATM first, then car dealer, then shopping clothes. He could tell the car dealer was kind of amused to sell a brand new SUV right on spot to a guy in sweatpants and a crumpled shirt, wearing house slippers and a crutch and not interested in any kind of technical features. He just wanted to be quick, not even negotiating the price. A ride of his own would give him some indepence, and just as he had expected, he was able to handle an automatic gear with his better leg well enough. And, a SUV was much more suitable for Frannie than a truck. If she ever would be allowed to be his passenger...  
At around noon he had managed to get a couple of boxers, some jeans, pjs, some shirts and hoodies, a parka plus some boots, no shoe laces though as he couldn't bent down far enough ashamingly. Hell, he really had to start to do some therapy.

Back at Carrie's house (which he had no right to call "home" although he wished he could) he urgently needed to lay down and take a break. He knew that he had overspent his energy ressources by far but there was one thing left to do before Carrie was back and that was the hardest part. But there's no changing that, it had to be done. He slowly got dressed, surprised how good it felt to be back in jeans and a shirt plus some real shoes. It was just about 300 m so he decided to walk with crutches, cursing himself for this childish stupidity 50 m down the road. It took him nearly 15 minutes to arrive at Maggie's house. He only had been here once, the night after Frank's funeral. He took a deep breath and rang the door bell. When Maggie opened her eyes widened in disbelief. She hadn't seen him since Carrie had brought him back from Germany and had to admit she hold a huge grudge against him.

"Peter, I must say, I am surprised. What do you want? Eh, I mean, come in and sit down, I'll get a notepad."

"No, that's fine. I can talk."

He could see she was genuinly surprised, apparently Carrie had not told her yet, but has it had happened just yesterday, how should she?

They sat down at the kitchen table and Maggie looked at him. As different as the sisters were, here gaze was as intense and demanding as Carrie's. 

"Listen, I am sorry to show up here without warning. I am able to speak again since yesterday and..."

"You should take it slow then. You'll probably need speech and respiratory therapy. You won't wanna loose your voice again just because of inappropiate breathing or overstressing." The doctor in her came to surface and was speaking, he noticed that. "You know what, I'll get an Ipad and you can type down what you wanna tell me." That was good, he thought, writing without having to bend his fingers, he should have come up with that idea earlier.

"Yeah, thank you. But before let me say just one thing: I understand that you are angry with me. You care about your sister a lot and I have been a selfish asshole, I know that. But I promise, things will change from now on. But I need help. And I have nobody else to turn too."

That took her by surprise. She only had seen him twice, once at Carrie's hearing and then again at her Dad's wake. She had always wondered about the handsome, silent man, who apparently had a spell over her sister. She couldn't help it, but the intensity of his gaze, the calmness in his low voice while he laid his cards on the table and the complete honesty of his statement stirred something in her as well. She knew Carrie cared deeply for him, so if it was her turn to help now, maybe she should. She sighed and got the Ipad, opening the notes app, smiling reassuringly at him.

\- I don't know what Carrie told you but I know that I completely failed ever since I am here. But I want to change things, for good. Could you help me to arrange therapy? I have no idea where to go to. 

"You'll need speech therapy, respiratory therapy, physical therapy and probably you should see a psychologist for your mental issues as well."

Her bluntness kind of surprised him, but well, she was Carrie's sister, what had he expected.

-The CIA will take care for the later one. Most of what I did is classified so I can't go to a civilian of my choice. Could you make appointments for me with the other specialities?

"Of course I can do that. But tell me why don't you ask Carrie? She had all those guys for you ready to come in 8 weeks ago."

He took a deep breath. Here it came, the part he was really scared of.

"I know and I know I haven't been, well, cooperative. But I want to take responsibility for my life again, Carrie is not my nurse. I don't want to be the pathetic ass who lingered around in her house and needed her help. I..." he stopped writing, hesitating how to go on. She realized how much it must cost this contained man to sit here and to ask for help and reveal some of his feelings. She decided to give it a shot and help him.

"Peter, when you were here nearly 3 years ago, I thought you might feel more for Carrie than just friendship."

He nodded slowly.

"And she was devastated when you left. I admit, I was glad when she met Jonas but she made her choice when you came back. I guess she has proven over the last three months that she really means it, hasn't she?"

He nodded again, looking out of the window.

"So do yourself and her a favor and give her something back. So she knows how you feel about her. Because you still do, don't you?"

He sighed and nodded again. "Maggie, I am not good at this stuff. I am afraid to ruin things again. And I owe her so much."

Suddenly Maggie got angry. "You know what? I have no idea how often I heard exactly this sentence from Carrie, how much SHE owes YOU. Maybe you two should stop thinking about what you owe each other and just BE together and take it from there. You both carry far to much baggage, maybe you need to leave that behind you and start over new, here and now. You are worried about your current condition, Carrie is constantly worried about her condition and how about you both don't want to burden the other one. Here's the thing: There are no gurantees in life. Nobody gurantees any couple a life on a bed of roses, nobody gurantees that I don't wake up tomorrow morning and my husband is not, let's say, suffering a stroke, shacking up his secretary or having a car accident. Nobody grants me eternal health or that my children don't start smoking pot or worse. This is life, and whatever it throws at us, we have to figure it out. Relationships are not about OWING each other, they are about ACCEPTING each other, accepting all flaws, condition or not. Maybe you both are damaged goods, but as long as you still choose each other, who cares? But stop this limbo. Either go for it or leave her alone."

He stared at her astonished. He'd come here to ask for help with setting up his therapy but now he got a thorough dressing down. Well, he fucking deserved it, that was for sure. He looked at her thoughtfully, then went on typing.

-I really try. But may I ask for a favor? I'd like to take your sister on a date, we never had one. Could you take Frannie one evening next week? I want to talk to her and it wouldn't feel right to do it in her own house. I want it to be right.

That was sweet, Maggie thought, and nodded. "Sure, Peter, any night you want me to. About you therapy, I'll make some calls on Monday morning and let you now, when the sessions start."

He pushed the Ipad back over the table and got up. "Thank you, Maggie, I mean it. I'll ask Carrie tonight about going out with me someday next week, I promise." And then he made his way out of the door, slowly limping back to Carrie's house. She watched him through the window and was surprised that she still rather liked him, whereas she had been getting more and more angry with his silence presence in Carrie's life over the last couple of weeks.

After he was back at the house he had slept for two hours on the couch, passed away the second he had touched the cushion. He just woke up when he heard Carrie and Franny coming back. Carrie seemed to be relieved when she saw him, asking him about the car. She had assumed a strange visitor, maybe Dar again, when she had seen the unknown car and was relieved that this wasn't the case. He felt utterly spent from the day's activities but didn't wanna go back in his room, now as she was home. So he volunteered to play a board game with Frannie while Carrie was cooking macaroni and cheese. Frannie kept chatting happily about the animals in the zoo, so he hadn't to do much, just sit and pretent to listen.

After dinner Frannie had a bath and while Carrie put her to bed, he cleaned the dishes, just finishing when Carrie came downstairs again. Suddenly he felt awkward and shy, they were still walking on eggshells and he still hadn't told her about not having found her letter 8 weeks ago. He could see in her eyes that she was self-conscious too. He was relieved when she asked him to sit in the living room for a glas of wine.

"I see, you did some shopping today?"

"I did. It was about time."

Silence again. Damn, why was this so difficult? He couldn't blame her for not taking the first step,she had already taken it weeks ago, only to be apparently bluntly rejected by him, of course she was hesitant.

"Carrie, I...I need to tell you something." She looked into his face, waiting, and he saw that she was bracing for the worst, expecting him to say something awful. It hurt, more than he had expected, he wanted her to trust him. He fumbled her note out of his pocket. She was staring at it, her eyes already filling with tears. "I just found it two days ago. Behind the couch, folded and coloured as a paper plane. I never read it before." Her chin wobbled. "I am so sorry. If I had known...I thought...you didn't want me...you maybe just were having pity with me or..." Tears were now on her cheeks but she hadn't moved an inch. But he had to say it all now. "I would have been very happy, if I had found it that morning. I don't expect anything from you now. I know I have no right too. But I would be glad if you'd allow me to take you out for dinner one night this week." She looked at him in disbelief. "Why would you? You made your choice very clear when you literally locked me out. I don't need your pity now." Oh fuck, why was this so difficult? Apparently he was not good at this at all. 

"No, I want a date, a real date. Like starting over new. We never had a date." Actually, I never had any dates at all, he thought, but didn't want to admit that now, his sexual encounters usually just had happened, casually, no strings attached, he actually never had cared enough for a woman to court her, either she was on it or not. So this was new to him. "I still hope, you and I could be more than...this..." he made a gesture around the room. "I want you to get to know me and then decide what you want, I don't want you to end up with me just because I camped with my sorry ass to long in your guestroom."

She looked at him thoughtfully. Actually that was quite romantic, she thought. Although she already knew, she still wanted him, in all his ragged, lovable and battled contrariness. "I thought, you didn't want me. And I kind of expected it. Nobody ever wanted me."

It broke his heart. He reached out and touched her hand. "I did. For a long time. And I still do. But I want us to take things slow now. I feel we so often missed each other, I really want to make things right this time. And I don't want to be the damage goods from the guestroom who sneaked into your life. I want you to think before you decide. And if you decide to go out with me, I want us to create some other memories than living together in war zones and saving each other's asses on missions. I want you to remember things like, this is the restaurant where we had our first date or that was our first movie together - does that make any sense to you?" "Actually, I never took you as the romantic type. But I think it is rather sweet."

He pulled her into a tight embrace but didn't kiss her. Again, this was something which shouldn't just happen casually because he lived under her roof, but deliberatly and meaningful. Which was so hard, because he was yearning for it to happen. She wiggled closer, leaning her head against his chest. "I guess, that agreement includes seperate bedrooms and no ecstatic kisses tonight?" He could hear the smile in her voice. "Yeah, that is exactly what it means. But if you decide to sit with me for a while just like this, I'd call it a happy day."

They spent the evening in silence, snuggled up against each other on the couch, both deep in their thoughts, while Quinn was lightly caressing Carrie's arm and shoulder. It felt good, for both of them. Suddenly she noticed his breath had been getting more shallow and even, he had been falling asleep. It must have been a hell of a day for him, first time out for weeks, and given the brandnew car outside and his new clothes he had been keeping himself quite busy, she thought. So she brought him gently to lay down on the couch, put a blanket over him, dosed the lights and softly kissed him on one cheek. His mouth twitched in his sleep into a light smile but he didn't wake up. Looking at him, vulnerable in his sleep, made her heart about to break. They were both damaged goods but maybe together they could find a way to cope, she hoped.

Upstairs, she texted Maggie "Still awake?" Maggie called her a second later and just as Carrie was about to start to talk about the great news how Quinn finally got his voice back, her sister said "I know." 

"How come?" Carrie asked very surprised.

"I am not sure if he'd like me to tell you but I won't lie to you. He paid me a visit today, asking me if I could help him to arrange therapy."

"Wow, that is...I didn't know that. He really means it, though, I guess." It felt a bit awkward to learn it from Maggie but she quickly decided that the day had been too good for allowing it to be clouded now.

"I think, he really wants to get better."

"How was he? I mean, what do you think?" Carrie so much wanted Maggie to like him.

"Sincere. Silent. Thoughtful. And he seems to care about you a lot. And he is indeed very handsome." Maggie giggled with a certain undertone.

Carrie felt her cheeks flushing, gosh, she was not a teenager anymore.

"And he asked me to babysit Frannie because he wants to take you out some night this week."

"Will you?"

"Carrie, sometimes you are really a moron. Of course I will. Just tell me when, and I'd be happy to do so. And now go to bed and sleep, if you want we can have coffee together tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'll be over at 3ish. Good night and thank you."

\-------------------

It was 3 am when she woke up at one stroke. She knew immediatly why, Quinn had another nightmare, she had heard a painful cry. She was down the stairs in seconds, finding him curled up in a corner between the couch and the window, eyes wide open, his body stiff from contained angst.

"A happy evening does not cure PTSD", she thought, while she carefully bent her knees and tried to make eye contact. Apparently he was somewhere else, his pupils dilated, not focused, breathing ragged and heavily, probably a flashback, she thought. 

She wasn't sure what to do, the last time, she had interfered with one of his nightmares still fresh in mind. Of course, he had just told her that he didn't found her letter until two days ago, but she didn't wanna go down that road again. She was just afraid to ruin things again. They were back on speaking terms, but hadn't defined what they actually were, yet he had sounded confident, when he had asked her out for a date today. Shit, she was supposed to do something, not just sitting on the cold floor staring at him. They were friends, at the very least, maybe even more, and he needed her. So she started talking.

"Quinn, it is just a dream. I am here. You fell asleep on the couch in my living room, it is March 2016, and you are not alone. I know, it is bad, but all you have to do is wake up. Can you do this for me? Can you wake up for me?" She moved a bit closer, bringing herself to sit next to him in the narrow corner, and carefully touched his shoulder. "You just need to come back, you can do this, you have done it before, just come back to the surface, whatever you see right now, is the past. It is not happening right now, and it will happen never again. Just come back to me." He hadn't pushed her away, hadn't reacted to her touch at all, so she felt confident to grap one of his hands. She went on with her calming litany for another couple of minutes, until he suddenly moved and squeezed her hand so hard it hurt. She managed not to wince but to put her free hand on top of his, trying to release his iron grip at least a bit. "Oh god, Carrie, when will this end? Did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't. You had a bad dream, that's all." She tried to sound easy about it, not to worry him further more. "C'mon, let's get back on the couch, it's a bit cold down here." It was quite difficult to get him out of the corner, his legs were trembling and stiff, but finally with her support, he managed to get up and collapsed on the couch. "I am sorry" he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "No, Quinn, don't give me that shit, you had a nightmare, that is nothing to be sorry for, it is not that you choose them to happen." She said down next to him and used one hand to cup his chin, turn his face towards her and make him look at her. Her voice softened when she went on. "Let me help you. Tell me what you need and consider it done, I mean it, let me help you. I know how it is." His eyes were dark, unreadable, his face like marble. She could see how exhausted he was. A part of her wished she could just lay down with him and make love with him, to fill up his emptiness, to give him something to hold on to in that darkness.  
Finally he spoke. "Could you help me into my room and read a story to me? Hearing your voice helps." Then he looked away. She was amazed, for Quinn, master of fucking self-control, this had been quite a step forward.

Back into his room, he retreated into the bathroom and came back in pj pants and a shirt. It was an odd situation, they both were well aware of it. But given the fact that she had been in a nightgown all the time, she considered it fair. When he laid down, she curled up in her comfy chair and started to read, Dickens again.

He watched her, while he felt he was slowly calming down. She was beautiful, with her messy bedhair, in an oversize T-Shirt as night gown, small feet, tiny toenails. He was drinking her in. It meant a lot that she was still there. He saw goosebumps on her legs. Geez, she must be freezing. "Carrie, it is too cold, I am fine now, you can go back to bed." "No, I'll stay until you sleep." "Well then, come here." The words were out before he even had time to process them. She looked at him. He considered what he just had said. And it was the truth, he wanted her to be with him. So he moved a bit to one side of the narrow bedframe and lifted the bedcover. She was a bit hesitant, he couldn't blame her, but slipped under it. She had always been brave, he thought.

"Carrie, I meant everything I said earlier tonight and I don't expect anything right now. Actually, I still think, nothing should happen right now, it wouldn't be right. But..."

"Sssssh, it is ok. You are right. I just want to be with you. Nothing more. Help you to find sleep. Help myself to find sleep. And I'll be gone in the morning. Because of Frannie, just so you know. And I still want to date you tomorrow night."

And just like that, she turned around, wiggled her back against his chest and took one of his arms across her side to cradle his hand in her hands. He finally gave in, snuggeling into her small frame. She was unbelievable, but in the end, he had known this for a long time. Just before sleep took him, he felt his prick getting hard against her buttocks and was wondering if he should be embarrassed, but decided against it, but pulled her even a bit closer. And then, he fell asleep.

She felt what he was doing, smiled, and fell asleep too. It was so fucking good to be with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will take some days to write the dating part down, but I'll be back. Happy new year to everybody.


	12. The first date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally some semi-smut content, I felt they deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave comments.
> 
> I'll go on in a couple of days.

He woke up a couple of hours later, it was still dark outside and the house was silent. Carrie was still there, sleeping next to him, one of her legs entwined with his. In a way it amused him how easily they had been gravitating towards each other last night,whereas during daytime they were struggeling over and over again. He wanted so much for them and was so afraid to ruin it again. And what was left then? Still, he hadn't anything in his life except her. Would she want someone with so less to offer? And the overshadowing duties of his job, which he couldn't ignore forever, sooner or later he would have to talk to Dar.

While he was mulling in his dark and doubtful thoughts, she moved a bit, wiggling closer into him, muttering a single word, which sounded like his name. He held his breath, and it suddenly occured to him that the last couple of hours had been some of the best hours of his life. Maybe he should take it step by step, which certainly meant not to spend too much time with thoughts considering the CIA in general and Dar in particular on a Sunday but to enjoy the prospect about taking Carrie out tonight. 

He tried to loosen his leg from hers but she was resistent. He leaned over her and whispered "Why don't you sleep a little longer and let me watch a dvd with Frannie? You can sneak upstairs later, if you don't want her to see you in my room. Sweet dreams." She sighed and let go of him, already back sleeping when he had managed to maneuver himself out of bed.

\--------------

The day passed quickly and soon it was time for Carrie and Frannie to go over to Maggie who already expected her sister, eager to be filled into the details of the recent events.

"Well, if you are still ok with it, we'll go out for dinner tonight."

"Of course I am still on board, Frannie can sleep-over, so you have some...uhm...you don't have to worry to be back in time." Maggie smiled knowingly.

"Honestly, I don't know what we are heading for. Sometimes he is so...withdrawn...and other moments I think he really wants to be with me. And I am worried, his leg is still giving him hell and his other problems...." It was the first time that she was having such a conversation with her sister and it felt strange.

"But what do you want?"

"I don't know. Be with him, make him happy, I guess. Forget about the baggage we are carrying. But it scares me at the same time. He's been through so much and my history of relationships...well, it stands for itself, I guess." Her voice trailed off. Maggie looked at her sympathetically.

"You'll cross that bridge when you come to it. As far as I see it, he really wants to get things with you back on track, so why don't you give both of you a chance? Go home, get ready for dinner and enjoy the time with him. You haven't been out in months."

\-----------------

When she came home, Quinn hadn't been there. A part of her hesitated but she decided to give him the benefit of doubt and not to worry about his whereabouts, but to trust him to be back at 7.

She spent some time getting ready, and felt unsure about what to wear. Finally she settled for dark skinny jeans and a blue silky top with a v-neck. She put her hair up into a bun and put on some make-up and some perfume. He was there when she came downstairs, evidently fresh out of the shower, in dark trousers and a black button-down shirt. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs while he was slowly making his way towards her and pulled her in a light, somehow shy embrace. God, he smelled so good.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

He was still holding her, but then reminded himself of the purpose of getting her out on a real date, so reluctantly he released her. The bun made her look younger and softer and he liked the way it was releasing the back of her neckline. 

"Is Italian fine for you? Or would you like anything else?"

"No, Italian is perfect."

He grabbed his crutches, feeling awkward, but he needed them, like it or not.

 

\--------------------

It was difficult to start a conversation, so many topics felt like forbidden no go areas, and the years of their seperation were still a constant shadow.

Finally he decided to bluntly ask.

"Do you miss your life in Germany?"

If she was taken aback she did not let him notice.

"No, I don't. Looking back, it feels like a holiday from real life. But it changed me, I hope for good. I learnt to be a mum for Frannie there, so I will never have regrets, most of the time it was a good life."

"And Jonas?"

"Well, obviously he is out of the picture. But he was good to me, when I needed someone to be good to me. But, I kind of knew from the very beginning, that it wouldn't work. Although I wanted it, back then." She paused and looked at him. "But then you came back, out of nothing. How could that not stir everything up again, given the way you left me two years ago?" Her voice was soft and without accusition, very matter of factly.

"Yeah, I know. No, I didn't know then. But I wish I had known. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does. But we can't go back there."

"No, unfortunatly we can't." He paused, trying to choose his words carefully.

"I was kind of a dead man when I left. And I was numb when I came to Berlin. Seeing you there made me feel something again, but nearly too late."

"And what are you feeling now?"

"A lot of things, sometimes nothing. Often it confuses me. But the difference is, now I want to feel again."

"Tell me, when did you feel happy as a child?" This question took him by surprise. He was silent for a moment, but then decided to answer it. "My mother used to read stories to me, each night."

"When did she stop that?" He hesitated, he never spoke about this to anybody, or at least he hadn't for decades now. But maybe it was time. And he had so little to offer her, when she had devoted so much to him over the last months, so maybe she's at least deserve some honesty.

"After April 18, 1983. She was mourning my dad and killed herself soon afterwards."

"Lebanon, the embassy attack." She laid one of her hands on top of his and squeezed it gently. She had done her homework, but what had he expected, she herself was in the middle eastern unit of the CIA for almost 15 years now.

He nodded.

"And you?"

"Went into foster care, grew up to be an angry young man who never learnt how to grieve and was recruited by Dar some years later. My father was his colleague. He was the one to deliver his letter. Most of the US-Americans who died in that attack were CIA."

She was silent for a while, stunned by the amount of biographic information he had given her. But it made sense, she figured. If she only had known this back in Islamabad. Suddenly it all made sense, his excessive outrage after Haqqani's embassy attack, his desperate one-man-mission to kill him, his neglect of his own survival in those days, his absolute devotion to protect the people under his guard at all cost. She had never questioned why, but now it felt like the missing pieces were falling into the picture.

The amount of trust he granted her by telling her as well as the memory of Islamabad were gut-wrenching.

Quinn himself wondered how he could get the evening back on track, he had wanted it to be light and fun and he had no idea how to get back from his rather not so happy childhood to a somehow romantic topic. But Carrie sensed his uncomfortableness and fixed it for him.

"My childhood memories of my mom are not so good. But my dad was great." Carrie interrupted his thinking.

And then it was easy. They started talking about how her dad had raised the two girls alone, about summers by the lake, about Frank failing badly when it came to the first romantic involvements of his daughters. Quinn had to laugh genuinly when she told him about his habit to interrogate the boys who had developed romantic interests into his daughters about their career aspirations, favourite sport teams and their parents' profession. 

"But the worst thing was, when Maggie was 17 and had her highschool homecoming night. It was Bill, he is her highschool sweetheart, and it was the night of their first date. When he came and waited in the living room for Maggie to come downstairs, my dad took the best-buddy-approach and offered him condoms. Maggie of course came downstairs just that moment. She was furious, and didn't speak with dad for 3 days."

"I guess it was hard for him, being a dad raising two adolescent girls." Quinn smiled.

"Yes, I guess. At when I was diagnozed with my condition, it didn't get easier for him. But he did great. And I am only beginning to understand now, being a mom myself, what it means to do it all alone. And he never lost it once, always managed to keep himself stable in his own condition."

The evening passed quickly, the food was lovely and soon it was time to go, as Carrie would have to start her day early. And Quinn realized he had forgotten to fill her in into an important detail. But he didn't exactly know how and he had enjoyed their talk about "normal" things a lot.

The drove back to Carrie's place in silence, both wondering what might happen next. Quinn parked at the road curb opposite of Carrie's house, taking a deep breath. 

"Why aren't you parking in the driveway, it's a shorter walk for you?"

Here we go, he thought, it's coming.

"Carrie, I am not staying at yours. I...I moved my stuff to a motel this afternoon, I think..." he couldn't finish his sentence as she stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide open.

"Quinn, what the fuck? So this was good-bye? And I thought...You are such a damn coward. I don't need a consolation prize, dinner and some secret background story, and then drop-off and extraction. Asshole." She jumped out of his car and slammed the door behind her.

He cursed and tried to get after her. Those damned crutches, his fucking leg, his fucked up inabilty to get things with her right. She was nearly at her door, when he was out of the car.

"Carrie, please. Listen to me. It is not like this. Please. Just give me a minute." 

She hesitated, stopped moving, but didn't turn around. He limped towards her, but she did not turn when he reached her.

"Your minute is starting now." Her voice was brittle and cold.

"Carrie, I felt you need some space. I felt I can't try to start something real with you and still camp on my sick-bed in your guestroom. I can't accept your generosity any longer without giving anything back. There should be no pressure on you. I wanted you to be free to decide whether and when you decide to take this, us, one step further. And certainly, I am hoping that this will happen. That you are longing for me as much as I do for you...and if you want me back here then, I'd be the happiest man on earth, but I want it to be a deliberate decision. I want to be your choice, not your burden. That's why I left. And I know I should have told you earlier, but I didn't know how." He stopped and thought, it was probably longer than a minute. But it was out now, and he was was hoping for her to say something, or at least to turn around.

"Carrie, can you please say something?"

She turned around, looking up to him. He saw the tears on her cheeks and let go of one crutch to raise his hand and dry her cheek with his thumb. Still she hadn't said a word. He wasn't sure if this was good or bad. He let the other crutch fall and raised his other hand towards her face, cupping it gently. There was a intense moment between them when his gaze held hers. Suddenly the air between them felt ignited. He was just hoping he wasn't deluding himself. But he was going to find out soon enough. He briefly thought of their first kiss, they had shared that just a bit further down the road, in a time which felt like another life.

Then he bent down to her, gently touching her lips with his, like a question. She didn't pull back. He deepened his kiss, still soft and tender and let his hand slide down the back of her neck. She tasted every bit as good as he had expected, sweet, promising. Just then, she raised on of her arms and lifted it towards his head, into his hair and pulled him closer. He parted her lips with his tongue, carefully, but her tongue welcomed him and their kiss deepened, passion slowly building up. 

His hand was still on the back of her neck, a constant, re-assuring pressure, warm and lingering. His other arm went around to her back, trailed downwards on the silky fabric of her top and stopped just above her waistband. Still they hadn't stopped kissing. Carrie took is lowerlip between her teeth, lightly sucking on it and teasing it with her teeths. He moaned. She intensified her efforts and sneaked her free hand around his waist. Suddenly he felt it on his left buttock, squeezing gently and pulling him closer. This was enough of an invitation for him. His hand wandered down to her buttocks, while the other one slowly trailed from her neck along her collar towards her collarbone and cleavage. He felt his erection throwing against the fabric of his trousers. Geez, he was about to shoot his pants just because he was finally kissing her. Her untucking his shirt to slip a hand underneath it wasn't really helpful to calm him down but it felt so fucking good. He felt confident to move his hand further down her cleavage, tracing the rim of her bra. She moaned into his mouth without interrupting the kiss, which was one of the most erotic sounds he had ever heard. He slowly moved his thumb across her breast, searching her nipple. She ground herself into him, into his touch, while he was softly rubbing his thumb over her nipple.

In return, she slid her hand into the back of his pants, squeezing his buttocks. The touch of her hand on his bare skin electrified him and brought him dangerously close to the edge. He groaned her name.

Slowly he pulled back a bit. "Carrie, if you don't want me to come right here on your doorstep, we need to slow down."

She smiled. "Well, I have to admit, you know how to kiss a girl good night after a date." Her hand was still in his pants, so she squeezed his buttocks again gently, sending anither shiver down his spine. He embraced and kissed her again, this time more gentle and less passionate, but still it was a deep and meaningful kiss. 

"This dating thing...I guess it means you'll kiss me good night now and then return to your self-chosen asylum, leaving me alone and yearning for more?" He was glad he could hear a smile in her voice.

"I think, it's for the better. But you know, if it's what you really want, I'd stay."

"You know, somehow I get what you were saying, and part of me thinks, it is right to take things slow. But can we please skip the part, where we both wonder who is going to call first and if it is to early to call right away the next day?"

He smiled down at her. "Yes, we can skip that. Because I will call you tomorrow. And I'd love to see you tomorrow."

"I don't want Franny to sleep over at Maggie's everyday. But maybe you can meet me for lunch? I'll just have an hour then, but we could meet at a cafe. Or you join us for the park in the afternoon?"

"Maybe both, if you don't mind? I certainly won't get a kiss like that when Franny's around. But maybe I could get one of these in the car when I take you for lunch?"

"You can have another one now. And about tomorrow...that is for me to know, and for you to find out."

And with that, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

\----------------------

He left 20 minutes and a couple of kisses later. Carrie walked into her room and got ready for bed, filled with brimming happiness. Sleep didn't find her though, so an hour later, she grapped her phone, hesitated just a second and then speed-dialed him. He answered after the second ring, so he was still awake.

"Hey, can't sleep?" he greeted her with a soft voice.

"No, too happy."

"I am glad to hear that. So, no regrets so far?"

"No, not at all. Why should I?"

"Don't know. Maybe you came to senses?"

"Quinn, what is this? Fishing for compliments? Why do you feel so insecure about me? I know I haven't been the most stable bet in the past, but I have been there for you since you arrived more dead than alive in Germany, does that count for anything?"

"Yeah, it does and it means a lot. It's just...it's been so long that I had something good in my life, I guess, I just need to get used to it." He paused for a moment, wondering why this was so much easier on the phone than face to face.

"You never told me why you came to Ramstein. How did you know?"

"Saul. He came and took me with him. You named me next of kin before you left for Syria the first time and never changed that."

"I know. And I am glad you came. I remember hearing your voice. You said it would be ok if I want to die but that you would be there for me if I chose not to."

"You heard that?"

"I did. Although I thought I was dead then and it was an epiphany. But I remember hearing your voice, reading to me. And I remember you being there when I woke up. But I was so scared."

"And I am glad I could be there. Felt like a second chance. And I sure as hell will use it. If you want that, that is."

"I guess, you can figure that as established."

"Just one thing that bugs me about you being at that motel. What do you do when you dream?"

He sighed. "Carrie, I have been dealing with dreams and flashbacks for the majority of the last 15 years. Except for the last couple of weeks, always on my own. I admit, this time it is really bad, and I promise to seek professional help from next week, but as I said, I don't want you to be my nurse. I want you to be..."

"What?"

"More, let's just say it like that, I want you to be more. And I promise, next time you spend the night with me, it's not gonna be because of a fucking nightmare."

"I'll take you at your word. And I hope I gave you some input for sweet dreams tonight."

He could hear her wicked smile in her words. He enjoyed this so much. Maybe it wasn't so hard at all. Maybe they could have an adult conversation without misunderstandings in one moment and still savor passionate love the next moment, maybe those were just two sides of the same medal.

And with that thought in mind, he said good night to her and they both went to sleep.


	13. Meeting Dar

Carrie drove to work early next morning, Maggie had volunteered to drop Franny at daycare. Starting early was giving her some flexibility for either a longer lunch break or leaving work earlier in the afternoon. She hadn't heard from Quinn since the night before but figured he would call her later. She had a busy morning with a couple of meetings, so when he texted her to meet him in the parking lot at noon, she just texted back "ok".

Quinn himself had been up early too as Maggie had texted him to meet her colleague in a rehab day clinic for scheduling therapy at 9, if he could arrange that? It was a brief meeting, he would need to undergo a couple of tests and then have therapy appointments three days a week. So he was wondering what to do with the rest of the morning when he left the clinic shortly after 10.

He had suggested to meet Carrie in Langeley without much thinking, maybe just an old habit, not considering that it would be strange to be seen there by former co-workers...or Dar...

Sooner or later he would have to talk to him, maybe he should just do it now, use a moment of surprise for his benefit? This day was as good as any other day, he decided and drove towards the agency. He wondered if he would be able to reach Dar, now director, without an appointment, but it was worth a try.

It took him quite a while to enter the building, given the fact his security card didn't work anymore. In the end Dar's secretary and a security guard picked him up and walked him to the office. So much about using a moment of surprise, he thought, already feeling exhausted from the events of the morning. Maybe it had been a crap idea to do this without preparation. But now he was here.

Dar stood by the window when he entered his office, his face unreadable in the shadow.

"Peter, what a surprise on a beautiful morning, what makes you show up here, given the fact, that you didn't find it necessary within the last nearly 10 weeks to send me a word at all? And cut that oscar-worthy performance with the crutches and the ragged breathing, it is annoying."

"Yeah, it is fucking annoying. Tell me about it. But it is, what it is."

"So, you are coming here to tell me you are still sick and in need of some...how to put it...superior in home care, expertly delivered by Carrie Matthieson. Tell me, what exactly is she helping you with?" Dar's voice was dripping with irony.

"This is not about Carrie. And don't you dare to lay a finger on her. I am here to talk with you about my future business."

"Well, that is easy. You know what you signed for. And your task in Syria is not finished. I can have you on a plane tomorrow."

Quinn sighed. "Believe it or not, I can't. I still have a long way of recovery and I have no idea, if I ever will be able to fully use my leg again. Plus..." His voice trailed off and he hated to admit his weakness to Dar among all people. "I just think, I can't go back. Darkness finally got me. I have flashbacks and dreams which scare the living shit out of me. I won't be of any use for you there. You know how and where they found me, do you?"

Dar looked at him thoughtfully.

"You got weak. You let her too close. I taught you better than this. About your so called dreams...you had those before, you should be able to get around them. May I remind you that you traded your service for her security? This can't be undone just because you feel an itch now."

Quinn suddenly felt so damn tired. How could this world had been something he fiercly had believed in for more than 15 years? Could it really be that Dar didn't consider him as human being at all? Wasn't he no more than just a fucking tool?

"Believe what you wanna believe. I am not saying I am leaving the CIA. I know what I agreed to. I am saying, right now I don't see a way back to active black ops missions, neither physical nor mental. And believe me, this is not about Carrie, this is about me. I have been committed for more than 15 years, I never questioned any order..."

"Well, not until you met her." Dar interrupted him. "The clusterfuck with Brody wouldn't have happened if you had done as Estes and I told you."

"The clusterfuck with Brody wouldn't have happened if Estes had believed her in the first place. A lot of people would still be alive then."

Dar's gaze scrutinized him. Then he shrugged. "Be that as it may. It is a fact that you can't perform your duties any more as reliable as you once did. At I can put a name and date tag on it, and believe me, I am cursing her every given day for doing this to you, to me, to the agency.

Quinn said nothing, he had to fight hard to keep is anger to himself and felt nausea rising in his chest.

"You will not leave the CIA.You will see your shrink here once a week, she will report to me. I want to see your medical files and will re-evaluate from there. Until then you are on sick leave. And don't you dare to disappear for weeks again. I am not done with you."

"No, you aren't. Three decades and you are still not done with me." And with that, he turned, grabbed his crutches and left.

He sat in his car and took a deep breath, his head tilted back to the headrest. Carrie found him in exact the same position about thirty minutes later, pale and exhausted. She slipped into the car and touched his right hand, glad to feel his hand reaching out for her's immediatly. She gently squeezed his hand and leant towards him to briefly kiss him. Good, he thought, she doesn't feel awkward to be seen with me, this is good.

"You look tired. Want me to drive?"

"No, getting out of the car and onto the other side might be more hassle than the driving itself."

"Well, then, do you remember my yoga place? It is just a short drive and there is a french deli next to it."

They didn't talk until they had arrived and were settled at a small table close to the window. Carrie orderes quiche, salad and water for both of them before she eyeballed him. "What is it? You look tired and exhausted. What's your day been so far? If you wanna tell me." 

"Yeah. I was at the rehab facility your sister found for me. I'll start therapy tomorrow, three days a week, as out-patient."

"That is good, Quinn, that is really good." Again she touched his hand. He never had pictured her as touch-and-feel person but would be happy if he had to re-think that. He wondered if she would mind him embracing her right now, in public. Why was this so difficult, he felt so fucking insecure about how to get things right in their current state of, well, he didn't even know if he was allowed to call it a relationship. Well, he wouldn't know without trying, he thought and leant forward to pull her into him. She did not hesitate but leant into him, she even kissed him again, more lingering this time. This was good. He buried his face into her hair and neck and muttered "I saw Dar afterwards" into her ear.

She pulled back, but left her hand on his arm. "Geez, Quinn, you gave youself a hell of a morning. Two major tasks in less than a couple of hours. You know, you are still supposed to take things slow, do you?" She couldn't help herself, and felt kind of behaving like a mother-hen, but she was afraid he would overstretch his ressources. "Wanna tell me how it went?"

He paused, because the waitress arrived with the food.

"Well, I am still sitting here in one piece and he didn't haul me on plane back to some warzone-shithole, so not to bad, I guess" he said bitterly.

"This is not funny."

"No, it is not. I don't know what I expected. I am on sick leave now, until I spoke to my agency shrink and HR evaluated my medical files. He made it clear, he doesn't want me to leave. And I made clear, I won't be able to go on a mission again. We didn't agree, end of story."

"And why is that bugging you? Sounds pretty much like Dar to me."

"I don't know. I thought, he maybe would get where I come from, where I still am, maybe be grateful for 15 years of service, or at least ask, how I am...maybe consider me to be a human being with a soul...."

Carrie watched him thoughtfully.

"As I see it, it is rather simple: He will never change. But you did. And I am grateful for that. I like you that way, even more than I did before. And about the rest...you'll figure it out. He can't make you go dark again, if you don't want to."

And with that, she leant into him again, cupped his face with her hands and kissed him again. 

"May I hear that part about you liking me more than before again?"

"Yeah, but just once a day, otherwise I am afraid, you'll get too cocky" she smiled and turned he attention towards her food.

After lunch they walked back to the car but Quinn followed Carrie to the passenger side. Her genuine affection had comforted him. "You tired now? Want me to drive? If you borrow me your car, I can drop your at my place or at your hide-out for a nap."

"No."

He stepped in front of her and leant his crutches against his car, using one hand to stabilize himself against the car and the other one to pull her into a tight embrace. She was pinned now between him and the car.

"Oh, I see" she smiled, looking up to him.

He bent down to kiss her. "You said yesterday, about today is for you to know and for me to find out. And I intend to find out now."

The kiss started soft and tender, but soon deepened. He felt her tongue slipping into his mouth, softly questioning and exploring, and felt a wave of gratitude and desire washing over him. He slipped his hand under her jacket at caressed her side, well aware that this couldn't go any further in a public parking lot during midday. But she felt so fucking good. And talking to her over lunch had somehow made his talk to Dar much more normal and less offending. In the end, it wasn't important what Dar thought about him giving up, he realized, it didn't matter anymore like it did before, because he had more in his life now. Something worth to hold on to.  
He kissed her again, and she felt the longing in that kiss, and it felt good to feel so loved and desired. Maybe we actually are really good for each other, she thought more hopefully than doubtfully.

Finally he moved back a bit, but his hand was still on her hip. "I'll drive you back now, before Saul puts you on the missing list. But can I still join you and Franny for the park later?"

"Sure. But only if you take a nap first."

He couldn't help it but had to smile about her concern. "I will, I promise. But only if you tell me when I may see you again. Without Franny, that is." She giggled about this clarification.

"Hm, with you in therapy and me at work, I guess we can't do lunch breaks every day. As much as I have to admit I could get used to these. But how about Friday night? You said something about you want me to remember which was our first movie."

He sighed. But she was right, the whole dating thing had been his idea and in a way he still liked to wait a bit longer before taking things further. And he really wanted to create some good memories after all the misery and pain they had been through.

"Ok, Friday night then." She kissed him again and then he drove her back to the office.


	14. The rest of the week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much C/Q, but they get used to talk to each other. I am workingon the chapter about their next date, hope to upload it tomorrow.

The week passed kind of quickly, with Quinn having rehab session three days a week now and a meeting with his agency shrink scheduled for Friday. Carrie was as busy as ever to juggle her responsibilities as working mum. They had managed to meet for lunch once more and Quinn had joined her and Franny twice for the park. He wouldn't mind to be with them everyday but was well aware that recovery meant more than just to enter someone else's life. He had to learn to keep his shit together alone before he could be of any worth for her, he knew that - but it was hard, especially the nights, when he had to deal with his nightmares and flashbacks alone now. Which of course he would not mention to her.

But still, those hour with her at lunch on Thursday had been the highlight of his week so far. She had asked about his first rehab experiences, had listened to him like she really found it important, had told him about her work, at least the non-classified part of it, and had made him to feel actually seen, like he really mattered.  
Plus, this time she had pushed him gently against her car after lunch and had started kissing him, had even said, she had missed him for the last couple of days, and that she was looking forward to Friday night. Fuck, so was he.

That night she had called him, to say him good night. He was stunned. Nobody had ever called him to say good night to him since he had been seven. He himself would have considered it as unneccesary and kind of childish. But then, when he heard her saying it, it felt so fucking good.

Not only her saying it, but knowing that she had thought about him and that this had make her call him, without any purpose, just to hear his voice and say good night. Suddenly his throat felt tight and he didn't know what to answer. But subconscious he realized that he should say something, so he came up with a kind of lame "Thank you". Then there was a moment of an odd silence. "Jesus, Quinn," he scolded himself silently, "it's not like you never spoke to a woman before." He took a deep breath, and then surprised himself by saying "It feels good to hear you say that. Actually I don't think, nobody ever said that to me for a long time."

"Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because it is what it is. I didn't give a lot of people a reason to wish me a good night, or anything good at all, over the last couple of years, I guess."

"Well, speaking about me, you gave me a lot of reasons, but you always seemed so...distant, contained, not like you wanted much of me in your personal space."

He briefly wondered, why they were having this conversation now, again over the phone, at not face to face, if they had to have it in the first place. But somehow it was easier this way, he figured. And if they were heading towards a real relationship (and honest to god, at least he himself was heading there) maybe it was time to get rid with some of their baggage of the past. And that would require them talking about it. 

"I...I couldn't or at least I didn't know how. Although I wanted it, you in my personal space, that is, for quite a while."

"How long?"

Uhm, fuck, so much about honesty, he couldn't give an honest answer to that, not yet.

"I can't name a date. But before I left to Syria, for quite a while."

"And now you know?"

"About me wanting that? Yeah. About how to do it? Not always. But I know now that I really want to try, if you let me."

This anwer seemed to be enough for her as she didn't dig any further but moved to an other topic.

"Why did you leave three years ago?"

He had feared that question quite long time, and had been convinced he wouldn't ever be put in the position to answer it, as his missions since then had all been those kind of "your body will likely never return or maybe if you are lucky you'll be a box of ashes"-missions. But here it was, and it was her right to ask, he thought, but it was difficult, given the fragile state their relationship was still in.

"Remember when I called you in Missouri?"

"How could I not remember?"

"You seemed so distant, so far away, not just literally far away, but away from everything that happened the day before. When I came to your dad's funeral, I hadn't any plan, wasn't expecting anything, just wanted to be there for you. Make up for my last sentence to you in Pakistan. Tell you that I am sorry for your loss, that I know what it means to loose a parent. That I don't damn you for saving my ass. And then, that night, I suddenly felt this might be my only chance ever to tell you how I feel. So it happened. But I needed some reassurance, I knew I couldn't do it without you, and I couldn't handle the doubt. And then, the next thing, you were gone. Not needing me as much as I needed you. But my team needed me. And alone, without knowing what you were up to, I just couldn't resist. So I convinced myself it was a 'no' and that maybe it was better that way. And so I just gave in, back to well-known ground, back to the darkness. Going on a mission like that means you don't have to think about anything but the target and your team, and it is all I am good at. As much as I hated it already back then. It felt stupid that day that I really thought I could get out and so I convinced myself, that actually I was doing you a favor, not to dumb my shit in your life. But Carrie, none of this is your fault, it was just fucked up me. You couldn't know anything about this."

"No, I couldn't. But I wish I had. Why do you think you don't have anything to offer? You are so much more than that."

He was glad that she didn't say assassin or black ops or anything like that but left it unspecific.

"This is all I did for more than 15 years. And it took me long to realize but each mission, each...target...took a piece of me. Not that there was much of me in the first place, Dar chose well" he said bitterly.

"But you are more, so much more. You know, when I was in hospital, you came. When I was pregnant, nobody ever took the time to ask me how I am coping, but you did. You came to Islamabad, for me, because I needed you."

"You realized that?"

"Too late, but yeah, I know it now. - How do you feel now, about missions?"

"I can't do it anymore. I don't want it anymore. I can't be a paid killer anymore, because bluntly, that's what I did. That it's for the greater good...well, it is a cover which helped to live with it, but sugar-coating doesn't help anymore. What I'll do next...I dunno...I still think, we both should stay with the CIA, but what that means for me...I don't know. I need to figure it out, because I know, I need a purpose, otherwise I'll loose it again. And I don't want that to happen."

"You won't leave me again?"

She just had to ask, even if she wasn't sure if she had the right to. They were not a thing yet, but as far as she was concerned they were about to start something...something good...and she just had to know. She heard him taking a deep breath.

"No, as long as you don't want me to leave, I will not disappear. I won't."

"Good. Because I like what we have now."

"Yeah, me too."

They both were silent for a moment. Strangely, it didn't feel awkward.

"Good night Carrie. I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"I hope you sleep well. Good night."

When he put the phone away, he somehow felt relieved about the conversation they just had. 

Like a mine-sweeper who had just cleared another grid square of his perimeter. 

He knew they had some topics from the past which they finally had to talk about and hoped that those then could be put to rest. For their date tomorrow he planned not to go over to any of those dark memories, so it was actually good they had covered this one tonight, he figured. And again, it hadn't been easy, but not nearly as painful or impossible as he had considered it for a long time. It was strange, he never had pictured Carrie as good listener, he remembered a lot of conversations with her steaming off or getting mad before her opposite even had a chance to make his point. Somehow she was different now, more patient. Maybe being a mum did that to her. He liked it.

He had to be at Langeley at 10 the next morning, meeting his shrink. Not an occasion he was looking forward to in particular. But it had to be done, and if he was looking for any chance to either leave the CIA for good or change his position within the organisation he would need her as his ally.

He arrived a bit early, on purpose, so he could choose his position at the table. He placed himself by the window, so with a bit of luck, his eyes would be in the shadow most of the time. She came, with two massive binders. 

15 years of killing, neatly organized and archived, he thought bitterly. If I die, this will be my only legacy.

The conversation started on kind of easy topics, she asked about his current health, his therapy, even when she asked about his current dreams, he managed to stay calm, as he knew it had to be that way, he needed her to stand his ground against Dar.

"Can you tell me about Syria?"

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just can't. I have no words to speak about it. Alone the question raises fear and panic, and I don't want to go back there, not even in a conversation."

"I understand that. But you will need to process those memories, to get rid of them."

"I...I just can't."

"Do you dream about it."

"Yes."

"What do you see in those dreams?"

"Nothing. I just hear and feel. I am blind, I see nothing, I just hear and feel. And I can't breath, I can't move, I am just stuck there and there is no way out."

"Until you wake up."

"No, not even the . I don't wake up. Or, of course, I do. But I am still there then, sometimes for hours I think, it only stops, when..."

"When does it stop?"

"When the day begins and the darkness goes away." He wouldn't tell her about Carrie stopping it several times with her presence.

"You are living alone?"

"I am." That wasn't a lie, he was alone in his motel.

"I thought you were staying with Carrie Matthison."

"I was, for a while. Until I recovered enough to be on my own again."

"So you are not in a relationship with her?"

He sighed, and tried to relax. It was important not to loose his temper now.

"Listen, I don't see the point of this. I thought, this is about me. About my PTSD or whatever. Carrie is my friend. She was there for me when nobody else was. She helped me through hospial and my first weeks of recovery. She and I, we worked together for a long time, and we are friends. Nothing else is important here."

"Are you still seeing her?"

"Of course I am, why shouldn't I? As I just said, she is my friend, and it happens I don't have many of those. I guess that is one of the side-effects of my job."

"Talking about your job...you told Dar, you want out."

"Well, the way I see it, I am out right now. There is no way how I could to a covert operation right now. I don't even know if I will ever re-gain full function of my leg. My doctors say, it will take months for my lung tissue to recover. And I lost functionality of one kidney. So even if we put my mental issues aside...what kind of use would I be for the group? I can't make it from here to the toilet without crutches. The question for me is, what can I do inside the CIA."

He had planned that move and was glad it had worked out that way. Not telling her he wants out, but playing his inability to be of any use for the group.

"So you don't want to leave the CIA?"

"No, if we can come up with anything else, I don't want to leave."

"You have any idea, what you want to do?"

"Not yet. Maybe work as analyst?"

"I guess, we can talk about this more during our next sessions. I want to see you at least once a week over the next three months. We have to talk about some of your dreams, I am afraid, but I am glad, that you decided to stay with us."

He wasn't to sure about it himself, but at least it bought him some time.


	15. The second date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more semi-smut. These guys are really taking it slow. But I guess, they just need some time...more to come after the weekend. In case you don't know the movie: it is really worth watching.

Carrie had dropped Franny at Maggie's house early and allowed herself the luxury of a bath before she got dressed and waited for Quinn. She had felt a happy excitement building up in her belly all day. 

They hadn't set a time but as she had assumed he was there shortly before 7, again waiting for her downstairs. He bent down to kiss her softly and she melt into him. "You look beautiful" he said and meant it.

She smiled, still holding on to him. "How was your day?"

"Uhm, not too bad, I guess. I was up in Langley for a heads up with my shrink and she was kind of supportive. At least she understands why I can't work now and that I want out of Dar's group. And I need her assessment, otherwise he'll never let me out. But I don't want to speak about Dar right now, tonight should be just about you and me, ok?"

He didn't tell her about him needing to sleep after the meeting for 3 hours because of the massive headache he had afterwards. 

And he didn't tell her how it took him hours to decide about a movie. To him anything would be fine, as he hadn't seeing any films at all over the last couple of years (which made him once again think about his pathetic, lonely existence) but obviously there were some restrictions to be considered. No spy-movie, no war, no mental health issues and a romcom would have been a too transparent choice. But still, it should have some tension, because he was hoping for a chance to hold her.

In the end he found an independent cinema in Arlington, showing classic movies and decided for Mystic River. Maybe a little dark, but he had always liked Clint Eastwood's work as a director and the idea of a single incident of the past forming the path of so many people was not an unknown thought for him. And it was a long movie, so less talking, but a lot of time next to Carrie in a dark room.

Carrie said she was fine with everything he wanted to see and he thought to himself, that he found be fine with an empty screen as long as he could expect more kisses. But didn't say that. Sometimes he wondered what the hell he'd been thinking with the whole dating thing and why he couldn't just...

He was well aware that her top was a bit thin for a quite chilly evening in early spring and again with a v-neck which had revealed a bit of a lacey bra when she was bending down to get her shoes and his thoughts were already spiraling to what his fingers maybe could do later. But then she got a thick knitted cardigan out of the kitchen and there went the view.

They had dinner on the way downtown in a small dinner. 

"You are sure this is not Dar's and Saul's secret waffle meeting place?" she joked when they entered.

"Can't be that secret when you know about it."

"Well, for two high ranks who survived so long, they are suprisingly unaware of being tailed in DC."

What could he answer to that? He was just suprised she told him. Of course she must have had help, Virgil, he guessed.

So he just asked "When and why?"

"Three years ago, when I tried to find about your whereabouts and Dar didn't tell me anything. But he only told Saul about your group really gone dark. And that he did expect a mortality rate of about 50%. Kind of confirmed what he told me. So I quit and applied for the job in Berlin. I couldn't stay here and wait for someone to confirm your death."

She was silent for a while, he could see her mind working. But she seemed to decide for lighter topics and started to tell him about her week with Franny. Good, he thought, we really need to find a way to not to speak about Dar or me leaving every time we talk. But he couldn't blame her for that. It had been the most despicable thing he ever did.

\-----------------------------

The movie was really good. Dark, indeed, and intense, and he wondered how he could have missed the motive about how a trauma in childhood can form your path as adult when going through reviews, but in the end he didn't care. He didn't need a shrink to understand why he ended up in doing what he had been doing, and Carrie was smart enough to see that too after what he finally had told her about his family. 

He liked the way the film was dealing with the question of loyality, both between friends as well between husbands and wives, fathers and daughters. It was a story about a journey and it even had some breathtaking suspense in the scenes of the cross-examination. He truly admired the actors for their performance, it was dense, intense, carrying as much grieving as tragedy and he really felt for their characters. 

As he had expected Carrie was intense in her emotions when watching a movie. Watching her expressions was a movie itself, and he enjoyed that a lot. And, they were holding hands most of the time and kissed twice during slower parts of the story. 

They remained seated during the end credits and when the other viewers had left the theatre, she bent over to him, murmured "interesting choice" and kissed him again, her hand on his thigh this time.

They didn't speak until they were in his car and back on the road to her suburb. It was a companionable silence, not uncomfortable. He had decided for just one crutch tonight so he could have one arm around her shoulder and without mentioning it she was as much supporting his walk as he was holding her in a comfortable embrace.

Back in the car, on the country road, she turned to him.

"That was really good, thank you for choosing it. Did you see it before?"

"No, I didn't. But I am glad you liked it. Next time, you will choose."

She hesitated for a moment. "You know, I guess, love, loyalty and even grief spring from the same source. But I believe we can make choices. Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes we have to make adjustments and reevaluations when we mature, but as much as our past defines us, we are not just victims. We can't only let the past define our future. I learnt that from you. You made me see, I have a choice to make, with Franny. And I did. And I am grateful. And your past is not the only thing defining you, you are more, you know that."

"I still have difficulties to see that, but, yeah, I know, I told you. And I am glad you are not getting tired, telling me now."

"Good. Would you pull over here, please?"

They were just about to pass the diner. He did what she told him, but said "you can't be hungry again, it is closed now anyway"

"Would you please stop here?" The parking lot was secluded from the road by a row of trees and empty. He stopped, looking questioningly at her. "Carrie, this an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere..."

"I know, and that's why we stop here. I need some private time with you. And in case you fear any intruders, I have my gun with me."

"You have what?" he gasped.

"Quinn, I don't want to talk about my current cases or the CIA now, nor my thoughts about Dar wanting you back, but yes, I have my gun with me."

"So what do you wanna talk about?"

"I don't wanna talk at all. You said this is a date. And a movie date should include some passionate kissing and heavy breathing in the car afterwards. You never were a teenager? Besides, as I assume you'll again insist on returning to your crappy motel tonight, I don't want my neighbors to overwatch my nightly pleasures. And it is to cold for kissing outside for too long. And now move back your seat."

He did as he was told, having a kind of goofy smile on his face. How did she do that, going from dead-serious in one second to seducing mode in the next moment?

She crawled over to him and straddled herself on his legs, leaning into him and kissing him sweetly. He felt himself getting rock-hard in an instance and knew she felt it too, given the way, she wiggled her hips on his lap. He pulled her into a tight embrace, one hand under her hair at the back of her neck, the other one at the small of her back. Their kiss deepened and they were done talking, indeed.

Without letting her lips go, he nestled her cardigan open, way to much thick fabric for his taste. She wiggled her shoulders so he could pull it of her arms. Carrie raised her hands to his face, cupping and caressing his cheekbones, and opened her lips for his questioning tongue. One of his hands wandered down to her ass, pulling her closer into his lap, while the other one slipped under her shirt and draw slow circles at her back.

She was indeed well aware of his throbbing erection and ground herself further into him. She knew he wouldn't agree for car sex, and was pretty sure, he wasn't even coming home with her tonight, but she needed more of him than just a kiss in her drive way.

She pulled back a bit and started to unbutton his shirt. He was still thinner as usual but his muscles were so fucking tight. It was dark in the car, so she could not see his scars, just feel them. So much pain, so much wasted time, she thought. But I will spend the rest of my life to make it up for him.

She shifted his shirt away to give herself better access to his chest and started to kiss his collarbone. He moaned. She moved further down, he wondered briefly how this ankle was possible, but stopped thinking when she started to suck on one of his nipples. He nearly couldn't stand the sensations flashing through his spine.

He pulled her back up and looked in her eyes, amazed by the love he saw there. How come, I am worth this, he wondered. When he bend forward and traced her collarbone with his tongue, he used one of his hands to cup her breast and squeezed it gently. He felt her shivering. His other hand went up to her other breast and carefully his thumb started to rub her nipple. 

"Quinn" she whispered hoarsely "please kiss me again." He was happy to obey.

They spend the next two hours in the car park, enjoying to explore and please each other. Twice he had to ask her to slow down, because as she had predicted, he was determined to not allow their first time to be car sex. He even was determined not to come, he wanted the first time (well, actually his second time, he still felt kind of ashamed when he thought about that night in January) to be perfect, in a bed, with candles, and lots of time. He himself found that strange, he never had pictured himself as a comfort creature, but with her...he just wanted it to be right. 

He had returned her back home way after midnight, not without walking her to her door and kissing her again, lingering and passionate.

They had agreed on meeting again on Sunday for a visit to a farmyard café for brunch with Franny.

He bent down for a last kiss. "I enjoyed that evening a lot, thank you." And then he slowly made his way back to his car.


	16. Sunday (which they only decide to call "the third date" after a while)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is having a bad day.
> 
> Comments are appreciated.

Carrie had spent Saturday with Frannie and Maggie and her nieces, with Bill being on a business trip, the five girls had the house for themselves and had a lazy day, doing easter crafts, baking cookies and playing board games.

When Franny took her occasional midday nap (unfortunatly with her getting older these got kind of rare and shorter), Maggie interviewed Carrie about Peter and how things were going. Carrie didn't want to give to much away, but Maggie could see she was happy, in a very cute, kind of shy way. She was happy for her sister, badly hoping that this time those two would somehow manage not to miss each other.

Quinn himself had difficulties with an empty Saturday with no appointments ahead of him. He was supposed to do some of his therapy exercises every day but couldn't muster the energy. And without having an appointment with Carrie he had nothing else to do. He was aware that he probably still was in a depressive episode, just his high endorphines from falling in love with Carrie keeping him at a safe distance to darker places. But he couldn't help it, Saturday was a bad day, and he spent it in bed, watching some TV, fighting the downward spiral, trying not to start pondering. He managed more or less well til early evening but then couldn't stand himself anymore and gave in to the urge and got himself a bottle of scotch at the next 7eleven. Back in his depressingly empty motel room he was just about to get himself shitfaced when he saw his phone had two text messages. The first arrived a couple of hours ago, saying 'Hey, how are you today? Just wanted to tell you, I already miss you. Fran and I are at my sister's, having a lazy day. I'll call you later. C.' 

The second one was from his mailbox (he didn't know he had one, must have been a preset thing with the phone company, usually nobody left him messages), it arrived while he was out to get the booze. It was Carrie. "Quinn, I just wanted...to hear your voice, I guess, as sappy as that is. Oh god, this is difficult, but, yeah, probably you are busy or taking a nap, or whatever. But if you want, call me back."

He carefully put the scotch bottle on the pantry and returned to his bed, re-hitting the 'play' button on his phone's screen. She had called, said she missed him, and just with that, somehow had made things better. Just a bit, but enough to feel guilty about that bottle in the pantry. He knew he wasn't allowed to drink with his meds (he didn't consider the occasional glass of wine with Carrie as drinking), and he knew probably once he started to cure the emptiness with booze he would be back in that spiral in no time. Both thoughts didn't kill the urge, though. But he hesitated at least long enough for realizing that she would notice Sunday morning if he came around with a hangover and boozy breath - and probably wouldn't appreciate. He sighed. There must be other ways to get over the night. He texted her back, purposefully lying at her, but he couldn't stand her concern and care right now 'Sorry, just saw your messages. Did some exercise today, took my night meds early, pretty knocked out now. Miss you too. Ok, if I pick you up at 10 am?'

She immediatly texted back, confirming the time.

And now, all what was left between him and his old pal Johnnie was his own willpower. He braced himself for a long night.

In fact, it was a long night, and he was about to give up several times, too much memories were flooding in, taking him, overwhelming him with guilt, loneliness and pain. When he finally fell asleep, it was not for long until he started dreaming, and so he ended the night shivering and sweat-covered on the frayed carpet of his motelroom, self-loathing and so fucking lonely. But, the bottle stayed untouched.

He was glad when dawn finally came and ended the night. It was only 7 am but after a quick shower, he drove to Carrie's house, got a coffee and a donut on the way and parked 2 corners away from her house. And finally, after noshing up the sugar-loaded food, was able to get some sleep, his last thought before he dozed away was, how pathetic he was. 

He woke with a start 2 hours later, feeling still spent but a bit better. He decided Carrie wouldn't mind him being half an hour early and drove up into her lane.

She opened in bathrobe, toothbrush in her hand, Frannie behind her, half dressed and a red sticky mass around her tiny mouth. Strawberry jam, he guessed. So much about giving Carrie a good morning kiss, he sighed silently to himself, but couldn't help to glimpse down to her neckline when he gave her brief hug. What he saw, made bad things with his self-control, but...they were going to spend the day wih Franny, he reminded himself. He offered to clean Franny's smudge and to help her to get dressed, while Carrie got dressed. 

They spent the morning in a farm's café with a huge play area and horseback riding outside for the children. The food was nice and Carrie cozed about their day with Maggie and the girls yesterday, so he didn't have to contribute too much into the conversation. But suddenly he noticed she was silent, gazing at him intensly. He wasn't sure, what to say, honestly hadn't listened to her last sentences.

"Quinn, what is it?"

"What?"

"I am asking you. We are here for two hours now and you have barely said more than 5 sentences. Of which three were commenting the food and asking for more coffee, one was that you need to use the bathroom and the fifth was about asking me if I want more coffee."

"Precise observation, you should work as spy, ever considered that?"

His face was neutral, not giving away anything, but she hated it, him being there without being there, pushing her away, at least that's how it felt. It felt like all the warmth he had had for her over the last 10 days was suddenly gone and she didn't understand why.

That moment, Franny came back from the play area, she had had a row with another child and was crying now. In away, he was glad, she was pulling away Carrie's attention from him. He felt strange, this clearly family-friendly enviroment was not his comfort zone, he wasn't sure what Carrie expected him to be right now, and after last night's silent meeting with his lifetime regrets, he felt John's presence lingering in his thoughts. His child, and he had failed so fucking badly. And now, he is sitting here, in a café full of happy parents and their children. Ain't that ironic? If those guys knew about his profession, they'd collect their kids and run for cover.

But at the other end, he wants to be here, wants to proof her, that he could fit himself into her life. And Frannie is part of that package, and sometimes he thinks, he actually likes that, being around a child. But then again, he is so fucking scared to ruin it again.

Carrie interrupted his silent brooding. "Franny will need a nap soon, and I promised her horseback riding before we go home, let's go." He kind of knew he was just on probation, sure as fuck she would return to her inquiry about his mood sooner or later.

They drove back silent, intentionally not looking at each other when they passed by the diner, they had stopped Friday night.

Carrie put Franny down for a nap and returned to the living room with two cups of tea. He knew he had it coming, when she sat next to him, offering him a cup, and looked sharply at him.

"I am asking you again: What is it?"

"What is what?" He knew he was behaving like an ass, but suddenly he felt so bitter, so lonely, and he just needed to let some of the pressure off, he was really looking forward to a fight, even if it was just a verbal one.

"Your silent brooding over breakfast, the not-making-eye-contact, the fuck-me-all-attitude?!"

"I never said, I am cut out for Saturday outings."

"No, you never said that. But this is my life, this is who I am now. Franny and I have been looking forward going there."

"Doesn't mean, I have to enjoy it too.Not everybody is fit to be a parent." He knew he was pushing too far, but he couldn't stop.

"Well, then, just stay home next time. You know, I am used to do things with Franny on my own, I don't need you to join us. If you prefer to cave yourself in your shitty motel, just do that."

He didn't answer, just carefully collected his crutch, got up and made his way to the door. She watched him from the couch, his controlled face, dark rings under his eyes, back to being the iceman.

He left the house without a word, leaning against the wall outside. Oddly, he didn't feel any better at all. He had hurt her, he could see that, but she hadn't reacted with the fury he had expected. Honestly, he felt even worse than before. Because she was right, nothing she had done had been the reason for his mood. This could go two ways now, either he had to go back in and apologize or, if he was driving away now, he probably wouldn't need to come back.

He turned and let himself back in, kind of unsure what to do next. He saw her lying on the couch, shoulders shaking, she was crying. Well, he was a fucking idiot, he had known that before.

Slowly he made his way back to the couch and sat down on the floor, not daring to touch her. She still sobbed but he knew she had noticed him.

"I had a bad day yesterday. I felt alone and adrift. And then I wanted to drink. But I didn't. Because of you. And then I had a bad night. I didn't sleep much. Honestly, I slept two hours in my car just down the road because I couldn't stand it any longer to be alone in that room with a bottle of scotch. And last night, I thought about my son. And being at the farm today with all those kids made me think how much I fucked this up. But this is not about you or Franny. I am sorry."

She didn't say anything, but he felt her turn her face his way.

"I feel lost when I am not around you. And it feels like I have a lifetime of regrets and I can't make any of these any better. And I don't know what to do."

He felt her hand on his shoulder. 

"Tell me about your parents."

He was taken aback by this question, but desperate not to affront her again, so he decided to answer.

"There is not much I remember. My father was mostly gone. And then it was just my mom and me. I guess she was trying to keep it together for me, but I often heard her crying at night. And then he came back, sometimes after days, sometimes after months. There was always an odd tension when he was back. He was there without being there. And after a couple of days, it was good again. Then he was fun. I guess, they loved each other madly. When he was home, they laughed a lot. I remember them holding hands in the park. And he built Lego with me. Endless hours. We used to build cities and trucks and everything. At night, when I was in bed, they were listening to music. My mum loved Ella Fitzgerald and Aretha Franklin. And out of nothing, one morning, he would be away again. No more music then. I never knew what he did, until Dar told me years later."

"He was black ops?"

"Yeah."

"And then, when your mum learnt that he..."

"Dar came with his letter. She knew it, when she opened the door. She didn't cry. She just went to pieces. She was like marble. She tried to kill her that night, but wasn't successful. I found her the next morning, unconscious in her bed. I ran to our neighbors, they called an ambulance and I was put in foster care. She was brought into a pychatric clinic. A couple of weeks later, she finally managed, they never told me how. I hadn't seen her since the medics had collected her and I was picked up for foster care."

"And then you decided you would follow your dad's foodsteps and you would never allow anyone to get so attached to you. In case you disappear, it wouldn't have the same terrible impact like your dad's death? Especially not a child."

"Not until a couple of years later, but overall that's right, I guess."

"And that's why you've been miserable yesterday and treating me like shit today." Her tone was matter-of-factly, unaccusingly and in a way that was even worse than her fury. He felt tears rising in his eyes, being embarassed of it immediatly.

"Come here." She had sat up and patted on the couch next to her. He did as she told him. She took his hand ito hers and looked at him.

"Quinn, you only can push me away so often. I know you are feeling horrible. But you are not the only one with a condition here, and I have to protect myself, not only for me but for Franny too. Talk to me, when you feel miserable. Ask me to come and help you. Or come here and let me help you. Or talk to a professional, I did that too. It helps, it really helps. Maybe you'll need some meds for a while, like an anti-depressant or a mood-stabilizer. I get those too. They really help. I know your shit. But don't treat me like you did this morning." And with that, she finished and started crying, silently, no sobs, just a constant stream of tears down her cheeks. And he felt like gobshit.

"Oh god, Quinn, could you please stop looking at me and hold me? I need you too, whether you want this or not. This goes both ways."

And finally he was able to move again, and he felt less numb than he had all night and day, and pulled her into a tight embrace. When he kissed her, it had nothing of the wild passion of their last encounters, it was soft, tender and caressing. He briefly thought about taking her to the downstairs bedroom because he so much wanted to show her how much she meant to him. But just when he was about to slide one hand under her shirt, he heart a thump at the bottom of the stairs, followed by a sleepy voice asking "Mummy, are you ok? You make funny noises." He nearly jumped out of skin. Carrie backed away from him with a sigh. "Sure, honey, I am ok. How about a glass of milk."

Suddenly he felt utterly spent and couldn't nearly keep his eyes open. He needed a break. Carrie watched him from the kitchen counter and suggested, he should take some rest in his former room. Somehow it hurt, when she said "former".

He slept for nearly 3 hours and woke up, when Carrie and Franny were having dinner. He lingered downstairs until Franny was in bed, waiting for Carrie to come back. When she came back down, he was concerned about the exhaustion in her face, knowing, he did that to her. He followed her into the living room, catching her shoulder, before she could sit down. 

"I am sorry."

"I know."

"I'll drive back now. I need my meds, and you...I guess, you need a break from me."

"If you say so." Suddenly she was too tired to even ask him to stay, although she would have liked him to here with her.

He felt the uneasiness in her words but didn't know how to respond, so he just pulled her into his arms, and kissed her on her forehead, an oddly gesture after the emotional exchange in the afternoon.

"Carrie, I am really and truly sorry, please believe me."

"I do, Quinn, I do."


	17. The week after date 2 and 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carrie is having a bad day. Some semi-smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are appreciated.
> 
> I was heading somewhere else in this chapter. But Carrie developed her own will and took over. So that's why it happens what happens.

Carrie was having a bad day. She hadn't spoken to Quinn since Sunday, had some trouble at work and when she had picked up Franny from daycare on Tuesday, the teacher had asked her in for a brief one on one. Apparently Franny had bitten another child who had been teasing her about not having a dad. Children can be cruel, she thought, and promised the teacher to follow up with Franny on the incident, not without making the point, that daycare should be a place to be happy and that she didn't like how Franny apparently had been hurt by the other child. The teacher had told her to consider if there was any male relative who could have more presence in Franny's life as children need both male and female role models. Carrie didn't like this interfering into her personal life and was still brewing over the conversation when she had put Franny to bed later that night. 

Of course there was Bill, and Franny saw him at least twice a week, but honestly there were not many adults in Franny's and her life at all. Her father was dead, she herself was not the most sociable person, so they had no bunch of friends at hand for playground visits, Sunday brunches or playdates. In Germany they had lived another life and she wondered if she was disregarding Franny's needs now as she was a single fulltime-working mum.

Which brought her to the question if she was single. Sunday still lingered unpleasantly in her mind.

And from this point the downwards spiral turned unstoppable. Quinn...why hadn't he called her since Sunday? They had no set pattern, no habit about talking every day, but usually they did, more or less. And what did he want? She had enjoyed their so-called dates and she thought, he himself enjoyed them too, but why wasn't he taking things any further? Those kisses they had shared had been pretty explicit but he hadn't tried to go any further - why not? And Sunday? She had been proud of him and very touched when he opened up enough to tell her about his childhood memories but since then...nothing.

Maybe he was still re-considering, or maybe he was about to get into with Dar again.

At this point she scolded herself to stop it, although it was as tempting as ever to give in into the spiral of insecurity and low self-esteem. But she was a good girl now, stable on her meds, so at least she knew sub-conciously what she was heading to, building up a self-fulfilling prophecy. And there was only one way to stop this. 

She was already in her PJ when she finally made the decision to call him. He answered immediatly but sounded tired and exhausted.

"Hey, how was your day?"

"Exhausting. I had PT for two hours, respiratory therapy for another hour and another session with my shrink. How about yours?"

"Not so well either."

"Wanna tell me?"

"No, not really."

He was silent, what could he answer to this statement? He was exhausted, nearly hadn't slept the last night because of a very bad dream, but didn't want to tell her. Now he was just about to go to sleep and had no idea why she had called him, when she didn't want to speak to him.

She took a deep breath. "Quinn, tell me, don't you want me?"

He flummoxed. "Carrie, how can you say something like that? What did I do, or better what did I miss, to bring up this question? I know, I lost it on Sunday but I told you how sorry I am. Listen, if you don't feel comfortable with what we are heading at then just tell me and I..." His voice trailed off, and he didn't know how to go on. If this was her way of telling him he wasn't enough, what was the point in arguing anyway?

"No, Quinn, I am just wondering, if you don't want me. It's kind of embarrassing to have to ask, but I try to make it right and to talk it out instead of just making assumptions. And given the fact that...well, I enjoyed kissing you a lot and...I just don't understand why you don't take things any further...it felt certainly like you wanted me, when we kiss...but then you...leave...and didn't call for 3 days."

Fuck, he thought, I am not the only one her dealing with self-confidence-issues and a condition, and I tend to forget that. She's been so stable, so calm, all the time since christmas, I just forgot about her issues in that field. He had to give her the credit that she actually had called him in order to talk about it, whereas he had felt to exhausted for anything over the last couple of days. But he felt bad, like he had let her down.

He tried to choose his next words carefully, realising how important they were. Jesus, we are still walking on eggshells, he thought.

"Carrie, there is nothing in this world I want more than to be with you. I think about you first thing I wake up in the morning, last thing before I go to sleep. You are the reason I pulled myself together and finally started therapy. And of course I do want to be with you, I want you. All of you. And I will be happy and eager to show you how much when the time comes."

"And how do you decide about the timing?"

"Firstly, I thought, you and I need some more time together. We were always so much into our work and never shared any private life, just the odd drink after another crap day in Islamabad, but never anything like, you know, joy, normal life. And then Berlin, and the hospital and my recovery, so much pain and misery. I feel like finally we have a chance to really get to know each other. And I like that. I like learning what kind of food you like, what movies or music, I like to see you as Franny's mum."

"But we could still do those things after we..."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered. "I hope so. At least that's what I want. But I am afraid, if things once get into motion, I won't be able to stop myself for quite a while. And if I'll have to choose then between going to the cinema with you and...other stuff...I guess, I'll choose the later."

"Oh."

"Secondly, there is Franny."

"What about her?"

"She has seen me a couple of times at your house, I don't even know if she is aware of how long I stayed there, when I was...sick...and now she saw me twice in the park. But I don't want it to be like a casual hook-up with me sneaking out in the middle of the night, so she is not seeing me. I want her to know me, to accept me in the life of yours, and to be ok with me, when she meets me in PJs in the kitchen in the morning or when she sees me kissing you."

Carrie felt stupid. Why was he being so considerate when she herself hadn't spent a thought on this yet? All his reasons were so...good, putting her and her needs first.

"And there is one more."

"Say it all, Quinn."

"I want you to be sure you really want this. I want you to want me. Not just once. I want you to want me in your life, constantly, with all my shit. " His voice had gotten hoarse with the last statement.

"How much do you want me?"

He felt the atmosphere had suddenly changed and decided for blunt honesty.

"I want you badly. The last question was enough to make me hard. And Friday night in the parking lot...I field-stripped a gun in my head to avoid to shoot into my pants when you straddled me."

"Do you ever picture...how it could be?"

He couldn't help but had to laugh.

"Carrie, as embarrassing as that might be for me, you can't count the fantasies I had and have about you. Of course I picture it, and believe me, my imagination skills are famous."

"Tell me about it." She felt how wet she already was, just from hearing his voice.

"I won't go into details. But I'll show you, soon, if it's what you want. What I can tell you, that I have a well of ideas. I will make love to you and I will fuck you senseless. I will make you mine, will posess you and I will be yours. But the first time will be slow, tender, passionate...and I will make you beg for more. I will kiss every inch of your body, will touch you everywhere, will drink you in, make you fucking wet. And you will do the same with me. And I'll make you come, for me, and I will watch you." 

His voice was husky and in a way she was glad they were having this conversation over the phone. She usually had sex or she hadn't, but she wasn't used to talk about it...and her desire for him let her flush from both embarrasment and arousal. But she couldn't help it, she had to finish herself, right now, while he was muttering into her ear.

"Quinn, please go on", she moaned, while she slipped her hand into her slip, searching for her clit, rubbing it in small circles.

"I want to touch you and suck you, and I want you to come, before my cock even comes close to your pussy. I want my fingers and my tongue in you, before you even touch my cock. And after you came, I want to enter you, bit by bit, and I will be slow and then I'll make love to you like nobody loved you ever before. Because that's what I do, I love you."

And his last sentence took her over the edge, she panted and let out a soft moan (the sweetest sound he ever heard), and he wasn't even sure, if she really did what he thought she just did, but if...geez, then he was in for a wild ride, because how would it be in reality then, not just over the phone? And he had said it, had told her that he loved her, and the world was still turning.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still there?"

"I am."

She had to tell him, as ashamed as she was. "I just...while you were talking..." 

"I know. I liked it." Quinn, ever master of fucking self-control...

"I never did that before, I mean, not like this, not on phone."

"I could get used to it." He decided to go a step further. "In fact, I found it pretty hot."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Me? I am going to tell you good night. And I am going to ask you if I can see you tomorrow night for dinner. And then, just before I take my night meds, because those knock me out pretty fast, I'll think about what just happened."

"And you'll have your hands on your pillow and your PJs up in place while thinking?" he could hear the wicked grin in her voice.

"Probably not. But I will tell you the next time you call me." Fact was, he was nearly coming himself when he thought about her, her hand pleasing herself, while she was listening to his voice. It nearly blew off his mind that he could do that to her. His erection was close to being painful, and he knew, he would need to take care of it soon.

"Quinn? I am glad I called you. And I want to see you tomorrow night. But only for dinner, I have no babysitter for Franny."

"I am the one who is still happy with dating..."

"So am I. For now. And Quinn: You know that I love you, do you?"

He felt tears building up in his eyes and managed to say "Yeah. Good night, Carrie, sleep well, I'll see you tomorrow."


	18. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the talk to each other.
> 
> Your comments are appreciated.

He had spent the day in therapy sessions but had stopped at a book shop on his way back, getting a book as present for Franny. He wasn't sure how much she got of what was going on between her mother and him but felt it might be good to try to bond with her a bit more. Next to the bookshop was a flower shop. He wasn't sure if it would be too sappy, but suddenly he liked the thought of giving flowers to Carrie, so he got a bouquet for her.

He wasn't sure about his expected timing tonight, but as she had said "dinner" and it was a week night, it would involve Franny, and he expected bedtime at around 7 pm, so he arrived at their house at 5.30, not sure what to expect. They hadn't parted on good terms Sunday, and he still felt bad for it, but yesterday on phone...yeah, well...that had been unexpected and still filled him with joy and excitement. 

Franny opened the door.

"Mommy's upstairs, changing clothes."

"May I come in?"

"She said, I only open for you or Maggie."

"That's right, only for people you know and expect."

"I don't know you well."

That bluntness...she really had her mother's genes.

"Uhm, maybe we'll get to know each other better?"

"Mom said, she likes you."

"You know what? I like your mum too."

"I like Miss Martin at kindergarden. And Jayden, he's my best friend."

He put the flowers on the kitchen counter and gave the book to Franny. She smiled at him and gave it back. "Read."

Well, why not? He sat on the couch with her and started reading, amazed by Franny climbing next to him and not being shy at all. Soon she started giggling and he had to admit that the rhymes about a witch and her broom were indeed funny. When he was done, she said "Again" and he started over again.

When Carrie came downstairs, she found a nice bouquet of flowers on her kitchen counter and Quinn and Franny sitting in the living room, reading and making up their own rhymes. For a moment she just stood still and watched, enjoying the banality of the moment. To her, it was just beautiful. Then Quinn sensed her presence and looked up, catching her gaze, giving her an uncertain half-smile. 

"Just wait a second, sweat pea, I'll just say hello to your mum and then we'll finish the story, ok?"

He got up and managed the way through the room without the support of his crutches. He pulled her into a tight embrace. She looked young and vulnerable in her black yogapants and shirt, with a ponytail, without shoes even smaller than he remembered. 

She nestled herself to his chest, even if Franny was watching.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. The flowers are for you."

"They are beautiful. Thank you. But you don't need to come with presents."

"I know but I wanted to. - Can we talk, later, when Franny is in bed?"

"Sure...I'll just fix dinner, is Spaghetti Bolognese ok for you?"

He nodded and let her go, finishing Franny's story while she cooked.

Dinner was relaxed, Sunday's tension was gone. Quinn and Franny went on finding silly rhymes and Carrie just sat there and smiled.

Soon Franny was tired and while Carrie went upstairs with her, Quinn cleaned the dishes. Suddenly a red whirlwind jumped downstairs again, stopping next to him. "Good night, Peter." and off she was again. He smiled and poured two glasses of wine, balancing them one by one to the coffee table.

He was just about to sit down when Carrie came back. He pulled her next to him onto the couch and cradled her in his arms. 

"It is good to see you. Before we talk about anything else, I want you to know, how sorry I am about Sunday. And that I meant every single word I said yesterday. You know that, do you?"

She looked at him and studied his face.

"I want to believe you. And I try. And I know you are honest. But the thing is...this is not entirely your fault, it goes both ways. This is exactly what my condition is about. I want to be...loved. And then I am not able to accept it. And if it goes wrong, or one of us is just having a bad day, it is just a self-fulfilling prophecy to me. And I'll push you away. Or worse. I know, it is hard. It is hard for me, too. But you need to understand that. Even if you keep saying it and your actions keep proving it, there will be times when I will desperatly looking for a proof that you don't mean it, because I am not worth it. That can be hard, I guess."

"I can be stubborn as hell. Your illness doesn't scare me. I told you before. And I'd be happy to proof you for the rest of my life that I mean it, if you just let me. But I've been thinking."

"Really." In spite of the seriousness of their conversation she smirked.

"I figure we need some ground rules. Like me telling you if I am having a bad day or difficulties dealing with my past. So you know what's going on. Or why I might need some space. Or like you telling me if you feel unsecure about me. So I can reassure you before you go off the hook. Because Sunday wouldn't have happened if I had talked to you first thing in the morning. Or called you on Saturday."

She was silent for a while. What he had said, made sense, he was suggesting honesty. That was fair. And as much as they had been through, he was still here. She was still here, with him. So maybe this was really meant to work. 

"What can I do to make it easier for you, Carrie?"

"Right now? Just keep holding me."

"And beyond that? Please, tell me."

"Could you be here more often? Just like today? Not only for our dates, but for dinner or a cup of coffee? I feel better, if I see you more often, and if I know, you are ok."

"Sure, I'd like that."

"You've been away for so long, and then you've been sick for so long and then you moved back to the motel and...sometimes I think, I need to see and touch you, as a reminder to myself that you are really here, that you came back to me."

"I am not going away again. Not without you, I promise."

He shifted her between his legs and started to massage her shoulders and neck, carefully kneeding the knots and rubbing them out, with firm pressure. Bit by bit, he felt her relax under his touch. She was always tense and on guard, but he wanted her to feel relaxed and protected when he was around, kind off alpha-male, he thought amused. 

After a while she lent back, supporting her back against his chest and her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. He put one arm around her waist and used his other hand to stroke her side and ribcage, as it happened, he had a lovely view from his position right now. 

But even if he desired her and longed for her, this evening was not about sexual pleasures, it would happen soon, that was for sure, but not tonight. Tonight was about making her feel safe and loved. But still he moved one hand slowly towards her breast, cupping it gently, softly kneeding it.

He whispered into her ear - "This will only go so far tonight. Just enjoy it. I am here to please you, to hold you. I love you."

She moaned and moved her arm upwards around his neck, eyes still closed. He continued his soft and tender caresses, carefully watching her reactions.

It was clearly very intimate, him caressing her breasts and nipples through the fabric of her shirt, her in his arms, being completely vulnerable against him, eyes closed. It filled him with a happiness beyond words, that she trusted him this much, to let him do this.

He didn't do anything else, didn't even change the pace or pressure, this was not intended to arouse her (although it certainly did) but to relax her and remove tension from her. And it felt so fucking good, she thought. She knew, they were not going to have sex tonight, and somehow it wouldn't have felt right anyhow, this night was about finally overcoming some emotional hurdles and inhibitions. And it was about her trusting him. Never in her life she had been so off-guard and relaxed under anyone's touch. His movements were gentle but firm, and...oh god, what he could do with those hands.

Finally he rearranged her on the couch and laid her down. He placed himself next to her, so she was pinned between him and the backrest. And then he kissed her, and it was a slow, tender, deep and meaningful kiss. She wished it would never end. Again, his upper hand was fondling her breast and chest and she felt like she was melting. She knew she wouldn't be able to get up anymore this night. And like he had read her thoughts, he whispered "You go to sleep here, I'll hold you. I need to leave then because my meds aren't here, but I'll be back tomorrow evening, ok?"

She managed to nod and to kiss him again. She felt boneless and was drifting into sleep, but opened her eyes for a fraction of a second.

"I love you, Quinn." Then, she was out.


	19. More dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About the joys of dating a mum ;-)

They managed to develop some kind of routines after that Wednesday. Quinn now usually spent either the afternoon or the evening with Carrie and Frannie, and if he felt, he couldn't, they talked on phone before going to bed. When he was around, he tried to make himself useful, either playing with Frannie while Carrie prepared dinner or even give cooking a try himself. Quite often they ordered take-out, as both of them at their talents clearly elsewhere. Carrie had learnt some quick, child-friendly dishes, but Quinn was kind of hopeless, although Carrie never complained.

What he really was good at was reading stories to Frannie. He could do a lot more voices than Carrie (and didn't mind using them to entertain Frannie), so after a couple of days Frannie always expected him with a bunch of books. He himself bought her a few more, secretly thinking that Carrie was clearly not spoiling her daughter, quite contrary, he found her array of books a bit small and most of them were for younger children anyway. One of his newest pleasures was to browse through the kids' section in the book shop and choose new books for Franny. I am really getting old, he thought amused about himself while doing so.

He never stayed the night, but he never left without not at least having kissed Carrie once and passionatly. When he was around for dinner, he usually stayed a bit longer, until Frannie was settled upstairs, and then he and Carrie returned to what Carrie had started over christmas: listening music or reading, sometimes she read for him, sometimes vice versa. Sometimes things could get pretty heated between them but they still kept to a mute and mutual agreement which was "soon, but not yet".

They still went on with their dates, usually Frannie stayed with Maggie for those nights, but when Maggie was working late shifts Carrie had a college girl who babysitted regularly. When Carrie was home very late, the babysitter slept on the couch, on other nights Quinn would driver her to the campus or they paid for her cab.

It was strange but welcome, he never had had that kind of stability in his life, with a woman who as far as he could tell loved him as much as he loved her, a child who obviously was happy to see him when he came home (secretly he thought about Carrie's house as 'home'), regular meals, normal pleasures like going to the movies, going out for dinner on weekends, he even had joined Carrie once for a family dinner at Maggie's house (and it wasn't too bad, and the food had been much better compared to Carrie's or his achievements in that field).

He still dreamt frequently and he had terrifying flashbacks and those were the main reasons why he still kept that motel room, although it felt always terrible to drive back to the   
lonely, unpersonal room after spending an afternoon or evening in Carrie's and Frannie's company. Like crawling back into the shadows. But he didn't want to bring those dreams and the related memories into that bubble of peacefulness.

That, and if he was completely honest to himself, every now and then a gnawing insecurity, if this was enough for Carrie, if this was how she wanted to root. Because moving in with her and then fail and have to leave again was more than he would be able to stand.

He had no experience about Carrie in relationships besides what he had observed when she had been with Brody. And he still had no idea if she really had loved him, or had just loved the idea of loving him because he was so broken and inacessable and hurt was cleary part of that package - and the Carrie he had met back then clearly had been asking for hurt and pain. And the sex between him and her - fuck, he still could literally watch that movie in his head and recall the sounds she had made, even after all those years. And again, he didn't know how much of this had been real or if at least parts of it had been an orchestrated play - an ill-advised attempt to perform her masterpiece as agent. And if not, if she really had enjoyed being with Brody, how much would she enjoy being with him? He wasn't shy in that field, didn't mind to try anything and would be willing to fulfill any of her demands, whatever it might be, and he had had his share of carnal pleasures in his life, including rough encounters against the wall or toolet cubicles, bruised ankles, scraped knees, had fucked left, right and center but with her, right now, all he was longing for was making love to her, not to fuck her, but slow, tender, passionate love-making.

One Saturday night they went to a Jazz club downtown, obviously Carrie's choice.They had the best of all evenings, Carrie was glowing (and wore a dress that not only did great things to her teint but offered pleasant views when she was moving forward to grab for her glass), the live performance of a trio was nothing but amazing and they had an easy conversation about what vacations they would like to take one day. He didn't dare to change the topic to the question if they actually should take a vacation this year but somehow knew that this was what they both were really talking about. He had made major improvements with his leg and was now able to do more and more without the support of his crutches and when she said she would like to dance he pushed his doubts away and agreed, he certainly would be able to perform something like a moving hug, and what else do you do to slow jazz anyway. And it was perfect. Her in his arms, her head on his chest, just beneath his chin, he could smell her shampoo and perfume, one of his hands at her small back, the other one at her shoulderblade, her arms around his neck - it was nothing short of perfect.

She got quite tipsy that night, but he liked that, even if he stayed sober. She had a couple of cocktails and a glass of wine and her cheeks got pink and her eyes bigger and bigger, and he knew, if she would ever leave him, this would be his final undoing. They were the last guests and didn't leave before 2 am. He drove her home and for the first time after a date, he walked her into the house, he desperatly needed some more intimacies with her, share some kisses...

After they had entered the house, she dripped her keys with the careful precision of a drunken person, a gesture he found very sweet. She leant back against the wall, kicked away her shoes and smiled at him. He framed her with his arms against the wall and started kissing her. She immediatly answered eagerly, welcoming his tongue, sucking his lip and grazing it with her teeth. One of his hands wandered over the silky fabric of her dress, searching for the buttons, and without stopping to kiss her, he managed to open three buttons. "Excellent fine motor skills" she murmured into his mouth. "Being the driver and no alcohol intake needs to come with at least one benefit" he replied softly, and a bit husky. He was well aware that his fingers were tracing the hem of one of the cups of her bra. Her skin was warm and soft and he felt one of her hands wandering around his waist, down to his belt and opening it. Then her hands moved back to his ass and slipped into his pants and boxer briefs, squeezing his buttocks. This was enough encouragement for him and he slowly moved his palm into her bra, covering her breast completly. She let out a soft moan and pulled him closer, one of her hands stroking over his butt crack. He moved his hand a bit further to give his thumb access to her nipple and when he started rubbing it, she ground her hip against his hard-on.

"We need to be silent, Frannie and the babysitter are sleeping" she muttered and started to unbutton his shirt. He froze and groaned "Fuck me, Carrie...I certainly will not go on with this, when your babysitter is sleeping less than 5 metres away on the couch and Frannie can wake up any second..." but still had his hand in her bra. He was so ready for it to happen, but not at all ready for the babysitter witnessing it. Carrie giggled, slowly pushing one of her fingers down his crack. He winced from a sudden shiver of lust and arousal and she kissed him again. Her voice was a bit slurred but he could hear her amusement when she whispered "Well, I couldn't expect you to be ready for it tonight, otherwise I had taken more precautions and preparations."

"You minx, you planned this to happen." He couldn't help but had to smile.

"I didn't really plan it, but let's say, I saw it coming when you came into the house with me. And I can't say I didn't enjoy having the upper hand in this for once. Are you mad at me?"

"No, just terribly frustrated" he gave back with a genuine smile, rubbing his thumb once more over her nipple, which made her inhale sharply and gave her wobbly knees. "You don't know what you miss."

"Don't be so smug. Altough I have to admit, your ass is worth more than a second thought. But I promise I'll make it worth your while. Next friday we'll have dinner here, just you and me, and Frannie will be at Maggie's. And whatever you need to spend a night away from your med cabinet and little rabbit hole, bring it with you, because there is no way, I'll let you drive away that night. And now kiss me again and do that thing with your thumb once more."

And just as simple as that she had managed to finally set a date for it to happen. And he was filled to overflowing with love, joy and arousal - she was unbelievable. 

He left soon afterwards, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to sleep for another couple of hours, but he couldn't remember a single day in his life when he had been so utterly happy before.


	20. Waiting

It was a tough week for both of them, waiting for Friday to finally come. Quinn kept himself busy with some preparations. It had suddenly occured to him when he was climbing the stairs one night with Frannie to her room. For the first time she had asked him upstairs for bedtime and her bedtime story. It felt significant, and he was genuinly happy about the little girl's trust and welcoming affection.   
But when he arrived upstairs his leg hurt and he was out of breath. Which didn't matter for bedtime story but for no means this was the state he wanted to start with Carrie on Friday night. He made good progress in therapy, he even started to work on his own on a rigid schedule one his two days without sessions in the clinic but that wouldn't bring any outcome til Friday.  
And the other options were not what he wanted for their first time. Not on the couch, definetly not on the floor or kitchen counter (that would probably happen later, and he was looking forward to it, too) and not in the rented height-adjustable sick bed, he had spend so many miserable nights and days in. As far as he knew Carrie never had been using this room since then but once had spoken about needing a guestroom for the babysitter to stay overnight. Well, since last weekend he totally agreed with that.

It was the first time ever in his life that he actually planned and prepared to be with a woman, and it amused himself a lot, and he knew if his team-members would ever know he would be their primary goal for dirty jokes for a decade. But he didn't mind. He knew he was changing, their had been a lot "firsts" over the last weeks. And in the end, if he was honest to himself, it was the first time ever he was really and truly in love, and given that, Friday meant the world to him. He still wasn't good at declaring his feelings towards her, he was more a man action than one of talking, and they had waited for so long now. He wanted it to be nothing less than perfect for her. And if that included some preparations to get around the fact that his health status was - even if constantly improving - not yet perfect, he was happy to do so.

With a bit sneaking around and a cup of coffee with Maggie (yeah, even if that was another "first", it had been quite nice and after her being a bit irritated at first they actually had had a nice chat, mainly about Frannie and the books she liked) he found out where Carrie had rented the bed and arranged pick up during her work hours.

Then he went downtown to a furniture store where they sold replicas of mid-century scandinavian design classics. He never had bought any furniture in his life but had always liked the classic forms of items designed by names like Wanscher, Wegner or Jalk. He knew Carrie liked them too, she owned a Contempory teakwood chair.  
He picked a bed, a writing desk and a side board, figuring she might wanna use the room maybe as study as well. He arranged delivery for Thursday, kind of minimizing the risk she might go into the room and see it too early.

Now he only had bed covers and bed sheets left on his shopping list which was an easy task. He would smuggle some flowers and candles into the room on Friday. After all, anticipation is nearly half the fun, he thought.

Carrie was not having half as much fun as he had. She had set herself up for the task to cook for Friday night. She, too, had to rely on Maggie to get it done. (Maggie hadn't commented on anything, neither the fact that Peter suddenly came over for a cup of coffee and a chat about books and furniture nor that her sister suddenly wanted to learn to cook something she called "suitable for adults, not just kid's food" - but she herself could count one and one together and found both of them very sweet)

She had helped Carrie to choose recipes. They had settled for Thai, as it was easy to prepare, quick to cook, but delicious, and both knew about Quinn's preference for any kind of asian food. Carrie had cooked the three dishes three times with Maggie and was hoping she would manage on Friday without setting the kitchen on fire or overdosing the chilis.

Certainly ordering take-out would be much easier but somehow she was determinded to proof him that Friday meant a lot to her. It kind of irritated her how he brought out a romantic streak in her she never knew she had. But maybe that happens if one feels loved, she thought, maybe it is okay now to do and feel such things.

They only met twice that week, somehow both not able to deal with the tension between them. Neither of them commented on this but it was kind of mutually and silently agreed.

Twice Carrie came home and had the odd feeling of his presence without him being there, like a hint of his aftershave was in the air, but she smiled about herself then, thinking how much she wished him to be there, that her mind already feigned things. (Which it actually had not, both days he indeed had been at her place, dealing with the furniture, but she couldn't know.)

Friday came and Quinn had set himself up for one last task for that day. He left early and drove to Philadelphia, he needed to get something from his storage unit. It was a long drive, nearly 5 hours back and forth but he suddenly wanted to have it and show it to Carrie tonight.


	21. Friday, Part I

Carrie had left work early, dropped Frannie right at Maggie's and had started preparations for dinner right away. Right in the middle of it she remembered that she was still in her work clothes and that she still at lots of time, so she went upstairs, showered and changed. The choice of clothes for tonight was difficult, she had to admit, she was nervous, in a positive way, but still nervous. She settled for lacey underwear, nice but not too explicit, and a dress, remembering how he had kissed her last week and buttoned her dress open while doing so...that had been...well...she wouldn't mind at all if he did that again...

She even applied some make-up and pinned her hair up, she knew he liked it that way. And, alone the thought of it gave her some goosebumps, she liked him kissing her nape. It wasn't very cold anymore, spring finally had come, but she didn't want to wear tights so decided for lighting a chimney fire but bare feet and no shoes.

Soon afterwards she had set the table and the curry was simmering on the stove. She would cook the stirfry when he was there and had the mango mousse ready in the fridge. She couldn't help it but was somehow very proud with herself - the kitchen was a bit messy, but he wouldn't mind she thought.

When he arrived, she felt her heart making a nervous jump. She had missed him this week, his presence in her and Frannie's life had become quickly something she enjoyed a lot and this week they hadn't seen each other very often. He gravitated towards her, pulling her into his arms, bringing a flush of cold air with him inside. He smelled good and his kiss was...promising... Oh my god, she thought, I am so ready for him, he could do me right here and now...

"You smell and taste good, what is that? Mango?"

"Good sleuthing. I cooked." She couldn't help it, but smiled very proud.

"Okay, who are you and what did you do with real Carrie?" he teased her. She slapped his butt and retreated to the kitchen. "Well, that is for me to know and for you to find out..."

She heard him rumbling around a while at the entrance before he followed her into the kitchen.

"You really cooked." He took a moment to take in the mess her kitchen was. But it smelled good.

"Of course I really cooked, what else?" He could see her furrowing her brow. 

"Uhm, ordering maybe..." Uh, wrong approach, he could see that immediatly. "But it smells delicious, what are we having?" He rounded the kitchen counter and stood behind her to peek into the pots and to place a kiss on her nape.

"Thai. veggie stir fry, red chicken curry, rice and mango mousse."

"That sounds delicious. What other hidden superpowers do you have?"

"Just wait and see...what is that?" She looked at a cardboard box he had placed on a stool.

"Something I wanna show you tonight. But let's have dinner first. You think champagne will go well with the food?"

She looked surprised at the bottle but simply nodded.

Credit where it's due, the food was indeed delicious. Carrie was relieved and Quinn was surprised - but was wise enough not to comment on the fact of being surprised of her cooking skills again. The champagne complimented the food surprisingly well and they both visibly relaxed while eating and drinking. As they hadn't met often over the last couple of days they spoke about Frannie, Quinn's progress in therapy, Carrie told about some work-related stuff and time just flew by.

After dinner he got up and got the box to the living room where they sat down in front of the fireplace. He had gotten rid of his shoes and socks as well, because honestly it was a bit warm for an open fire. But he liked the fact that the fire obviously had come along with Carrie's choice of dress tonight, which was a light fabric dress, no sleeves, very nice neckline and no tights or stockings as far as he could see without getting too impolite...well, he intended to find out soon...

He bent over and pulled her into an embrace and kissed her. "Have I told you yet, you look beautiful tonight?"

She blushed, and he was amazed that she still not was used to get compliments. Putting his feelings aside, she was a beautiful woman and he was surprised that she didn't realize that. Somebody should have told her before.

"I am getting curious - what is it?"

"Aren't you a little impatient thing?" he teased but then pulling her again close to him and handing her the box. His face was quite serious and she wondered what would happen now.

"I went up to Philly today to get this. I have a storage room there, one of my...well you know...I hadn't looked at this box for nearly 20 years but I wanted to show you. You may open it."

She does as she is told. Inside the box she found a clearly 70ies style photobook, some records, a bunch of letters, neatly tied with a ribbon and some papers. She took the photoalbum and looked at him. "May I?" He nodded. She couldn't read his face, his eyes were dark, but his arm rested warm and steady at her small back.

On the first page was a photo of a dark-haired couple, both smiling, the woman holding a baby. Carrie hold her breath. The man was Quinn's spitting image. Or maybe more to the point, Quinn was his spitting image. Just that this man's eyes were brown, but the woman's eyes had the same light grey-blue as Quinn himself.

Carrie didn't know what to say, she just knew, it was an important moment, maybe the most significant moment they had ever shared.

She looked at him, searching his eyes. He seemed to be relaxed, no lines of sorrow in his face.

"These are your parents" she commented on the obvious. He hold her gaze and nodded.

She went through the book, page by page, and found pictures of a happy family. Little Peter, learning to walk, feeding ducks, a beach holiday, sitting on his mum's lap on the swing, building Lego with his dad, his first day at school. There were a few pictures which only showed his parents, those were a bit blurred so she guessed Peter had taken them. They showed his parents walking hand in hand, on one of these the man kissed the woman, in the background a blurred christmas tree.

"That was their, our, last christmas."

Carrie carefully put the book aside and pulled him into a tight embrace. Those pictures were beautiful but at the same time utterly painful in the way they displayed the happiness and banality of a loving family. Having the knowledge how their destiny had taken a cruel turn just a few months after the last image had been taken - the one with the christmas tree - broke her heart. But at the same time these pictures were a beautiful proof of what was Quinn's core, his caring and loving personality. This was what his parents had managed to give him within their seven years together, their legacy.

"Dar gave me the box when I was 20. Back then I pretended not to care. I was already far too deep down in the rabbit hole. Over the years I nearly forgot about it. But seeing you and Frannie brought it back to me and I wanted to show you. And I want you to look at this, too."

He gave her a piece of paper, which she studied carefully. A birth certificate, testifying the birth of the son of John Alistair Quinn and Elisabeth Niamh Quinn, nee Callaghan. The baby boy had been named Peter John Alistair Quinn.

"My father's family came from Scotland, my mother's from Ireland. They were both 2nd generation, my grandparents came here during the war."

Again, she was stunned and didn't know what to say. She was overwhelmed of the trust he showed her by sharing those photos and documents with her, like wanting to proof that this was his real me.

"So, Peter Quinn..."

"...is my legal name, yes. And I am from Philly. Although Hill School and Harvard was a lie, I guess, you already figured that out. When I started with Dar I used John Callaghan for quite a while, but when I joined the Brody mission I changed back to Peter Quinn. John Callaghan's file had some...interesting entries...and I wanted a fresh start with the new team. I have some fake identies I use when I am on missions, but not here."

"And you turned 40 last year."

"Uhm, obviously I did. Although I didn't celebrate in that cellar in Syria."

She winced.

"Carrie, it's ok. What's important, is here and now. I want you to know that this is real me. And I hope you don't mind me already being close to a midlife crises, giving the fact I am 40."

She cupped his chin with one hand and leant forward to kiss him. He still could taste a hint of mango.

"Why are you showing me these documents today?"

He was silent for a moment, like he was considering more than one answer. When he finally answered, his eyes were dark from desire and his voice was husky. "I thought you might want to know who I am before we..." he swallowed and didn't finish the sentence but the heat radiating from his hand at her nape spoke volumes.

She hold his gaze and suddenly the air between them felt ignited.

"So, tonight's the night?"

He didn't answer but leant in to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will continue soon exactly where I left...


	22. Friday, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was es ist
> 
> Es ist Unsinn  
> sagt die Vernunft  
> Es ist was es ist  
> sagt die Liebe
> 
> Es ist Unglück  
> sagt die Berechnung  
> Es ist nichts als Schmerz  
> sagt die Angst  
> Es ist aussichtslos  
> sagt die Einsicht  
> Es ist was es ist  
> sagt die Liebe
> 
> Es ist lächerlich  
> sagt der Stolz  
> Es ist leichtsinnig  
> sagt die Vorsicht  
> Es ist unmöglich  
> sagt die Erfahrung  
> Es ist was es ist  
> sagt die Liebe
> 
> What It Is
> 
> It is nonsense  
> says reason  
> It is what it is  
> says love
> 
> It is calamity  
> says calculation  
> It is nothing but pain  
> says fear  
> It is hopeless  
> says insight  
> It is what it is  
> says love
> 
> It is ludicrous  
> says pride  
> It is careless  
> says caution  
> It is impossible  
> says experience  
> It is what it is  
> says love
> 
> Erich Fried
> 
>  
> 
> Finally...some smut...which I found extremely difficult to write...if you don't like smut, just skip the chapter, nothing else happens

They took it slow. Now as they knew it would be this night, there was no rush, no urgency. He had pushed the box away and slightly stretched one arm to pull one of the cushions from the couch behind her, the other arm still closely wrapped around her, and carefully pushed her back to lay down on the cushion. He quickly got up then, put another log into the fire and dosed the lights. She watched him from the comfy spot where he'd put her, taking in the beautiful smoothness and efficiency of his movements which - up to now - she had only seen during missions, but had always admired.

He came back and set down next to her, and for a moment he just looked at her, not just her face but letting his eyes wander over her body. She didn't feel ashamed, in a way it made her feel even more secure to see how much he admired her, how much he wanted her.

Finally he stretched himself next to her, propped up on one elbow. With his upper hand he moved up her naked arm, and when he had reached her shoulder, he left it there and bent over her to kiss her. The kiss started slow, no tongues involved yet, just their lips exploring. She closed her eyes and just gave in to all those feelings she had.

When she finally felt the tip of his tongue at her upper lip, she parted her lips and with the same delicateness their tongues started to explore. Still there was no other contact besides their lips, tongues and his hand on her shoulder. And yet this kiss had it all and was a promise.

After half an eternity she raised on of her arms to cup his nape, and pulled him a bit closer. Their kiss deepened and he started to caress her side. Her other arm went up his back, stroking down his spine and she sucked lightly on his lower lip. He wiggled closer and she felt him getting hard against her hip. His hand wandered down her side and rested for a moment on her thigh, playing with the hem of her dress, before it slipped under the hem and started to caress her thigh. She felt herself getting moist.

He pulled back from the kiss for a moment with a silent laughter, which she could feel in his chest.

"I simply had to know."

"What?"

"Whether you are wearing tights or not."

She had to giggle and pulled him back to her lips, murmuring "Are you happy with what you found out?"

"Very happy. It's kind of promising."

"You bet it is."

He didn't pull his hand back but started to caress her thigh again while kissing her, slowly, very slowly making his way upwards. She intensified the kiss, adding grazing teeth and untucking his shirt to get access to his back and chest. But still they took their time.

It was not before the open flames had slowly gone out and only ember was left that they spoke again.

He traced the buttontab of her dress with his indexfinger. "You know what, I never saw you naked."

She looked up to him, her hands still caressing his back and shoulders.

"Well, I hope that'll change now."

He laughed. "You can bet your life on it."

"I saw you naked." 

He was just about to move his hand over to her breast and paused half way.

"Uhm, of course, the hospital, after Gettysburgh." He had the decency to muster a somewhat ashamed look at the memory of it. "Well, I was pretty much of a dick back then, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you were. But I always liked your bluntness. At least it got never boring when you were around. And - as I said last week - your ass is worth a second look." She moved her hand down to the said derriere and squeezed it.

He laughed again, cupping her breast in response and rubbing his thumbs over her nipple, like she liked it. "Well, at least you didn't buy a pig in a poke."

She spanked his ass. "I am not a pig in a poke."

"No, you are not. But I still wanna undress you. Now. Come with me." Suddenly his voice was hoarse.

She hesitated and held him back. "You don't need to climb the stairs. We can just stay here. No babysitter tonight around. I am fine here."

"But I am not. Come with me." He got up on his legs and pulled her into standing as well. He ignored her questioning look and took her hand to lead her towards the hall.

"Close your eyes, ok? Just trust me."

She did as she was told, thinking that the must already be past the stairs leading to her bedroom and that he can't really intend to have her in the narrow bed in the guestroom rather in the relatively comfort of the living room.

"Keep your eyes close." He let go of her hand and she could hear him moving, she heard a small whizz, like a match getting lighted, then he was back in front of her, one hand again at her buttons.

"May I? Would you keep your eyes close?"

Never in her life before she would had allowed that, too intimate, too off-guard, but with him it just came natural. He leant forward, supported her back against the wall and with her eyes closed, her hearing and smelling intensified, she smelled him, felt his radiant warmth coming closer, his mouth just over hers before he kissed her again and started to unbutton her dress.

"Don't move. Just let me do it, okay?" he muttered against her lips and slowly opened button after button. When all the buttons were open, she felt his hand returning to her breasts, softly squeezing them, a thumb striking over her nipples through the lace of her bra, while his other hand casted her dress from her shoulders. Now she was just wearing her underwear and he took a second to take her in. He knew he would never forget that image of her, against the wall in the candle-lit room, her white skin with the contrast of the black laces of her underwear, her eyes closed. He bent down to kiss her neck while caressing her breast and nipples again. She felt his breath accelerating and she herself was already so wet.

He slipped down one of the straps of her bra, giving his mouth access to the skin underneath it and kissing her shoulder while slipping down the other strap. His mouth moved along her collarbone, his tongue flickered over the hot skin, tracing the structure of the bone. He pushed his hands behind her back and skillfully opened her bra. Then he got down on his knees in front of her and slowly pulled her bra away. Another image burned into his brain forever. He took his time to admire her soft curves, the perfect roundness of her breasts, how they perfectly fitted into his palms. He loved the sounds she was making when he added a bit more friction and rubbed her nibbles between his thumb and index finger. And finally he started to suck on one of her nipples. She inhaled sharply but then relaxed again, her hands in his hair, but he could hear her soft moans and smell her arousal. 

Finally he got up on his feet again and pulled her into him, enjoying his superiority and the fact that she was nearly naked against his fully dressed body.

"Although a good part of me wants to do you right here and now, I suggest you open your eyes now."

The did as she was told and said nothing for a moment. Then she turned and looked at him. "Quinn, this is beautiful. And it's...perfect for tonight...thank you." And then she kissed him, and he felt the desire. He moved her towards the bed and laid down with her, still taking his time to explore her breasts and the different reactions and sounds he could get when licking, caressing and sucking them.

While his mouth still was quite busy there, his hands moved down to her panties, slowly tracing her waistband for a while. When he grazed the thin fabric right over her mount the first time, it was so elusive that she wasn't even sure it had happened. But the shiver it had caused in her spine had been real. She arched her back, longing for more contact and then she felt his hand again, this time a bit steadier and longer. Again he kissed her and while the kiss deepened she felt his hand slipping into her panties, just under the waistline. With the last bit of will power she could muster, she asked him to get undressed first and watched him smoothly getting rid of his jeans, briefs and shirt. The candle light casted shadows on his body and she took a moment to admire him. He was a beautiful man, and she was allowed to look now, he belonged to her. 

Then he was back on the bed and pushed her panties down and continued his gentle and tender assaults. He hadn't come close to her pussy yet but her feelings ran high. She could tell from his breathing and the way he pressed his hips against hers that he was far beyond of stopping this too.

With the next kiss he moved on of his hands down from her breast over her abdomen and hip towards the inside of her thigh. There he paused for a moment, while she grazed her fingers over his back, then she felt his hand moving slowly upwards. So soft she could barely feel it, his fingertips made contact with her labia. She hold her breath. He parted them and continued his journey and found her entrance, already so wet. He didn't stop kissing her, didn't stop canting and grinding against her hipbone and slowly circled her entrance. She was a ball of feelings, longing and lust, far beyond rational thinking, there was nothing left but him, his kisses, his fingers and his cock against her hip. He slowly entered her with one finger, carefully observing her reaction, which was a soft moan and arching against his hand to get more contact. He dipped his finger in and out and stopped grinding his hard-on against her. He wanted that to last. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her to go first and to watch her. This had been his dream for years and now it would finally happen.

He added a second finger carefully, which was greeted by an enthusiastic moan, so he moved a bit faster. He felt her clench around his fingers and slowed down again, this was supposed to take a bit longer.

He left a trail of kisses from her collarbone down to her breasts, belly, hips, thighs and finally arrived just above her mount. He traced the fading white scar from her c-section with his tongue, an unbelievable intimate gesture, he thought, and then steadied her hips with his hands and slipped his tongue into her. She let out a soft scream and he himself had to take a moment to calm down, in order to avoid embarrassing himself. She moaned his name, which filled him with an odd joy. He started to build a rhythm with his tongue, moving in and out of her. He kept her at the brink of an orgasm, stopping each time when she was close to it.

Only when she whimpered "Quinn, please..." he replaced his tongue by two long fingers, slowly thrusting in and out, while he now used his lips and tongue to kiss and circle her clit. It wouldn't take long now and indeed, she felt herself clenching around his fingers, the torrent of her orgasm taking her consciousness away and blurring her vision, she heard him say "Look at me, I wanna see you" and she did as she as told and opened her eyes but couldn't see anything, her only reality his fingers working in her and extending her orgasm wave after wave. She heard someone scream, but didn't notice that it was her voice. 

His fingers were dripping wet and he was more than pleased with the result of his tender assaults. This had been intense and his fingers hurt from the muscle spasms she had had while she came. Now she laid boneless in his arms, her eyes wide open, and one of her fingers was tracing his lips.

"Quinn, do me again."

"Now? You seem to need a break."

"No. I need you. I need to feel you inside. I want you. I love you." She reached down between his legs, where his cock was still throbbing hard. Her touch ignited him and with a groan he brought himself over her and pinned her between his elbows. She tugged her hands into his hair and pulled him closer, kissing him fervently. Slowly he positioned himself and pushed into her. Easy, he reminded himself, there is only one first time and you want it not to be over too soon. 

While slowly pushing into her he looked down to her, into her eyes. And he honestly thought, that this was the best part, finally all insecurity being washed away, just seeing right through her to the core of her. He briefly wondered what she might see in his eyes and she smiled just in that very second, so she probably saw something good.

And then she raised her legs and pushed her heels into his buttocks and he was done thinking. She pushed him deeper in, enthusiastically answering his thrusts with her hips and they built up a rhythm which would be soon his undoing. He felt his orgasm building at the base of his spine and knew it would be intense. All those years of longing, seperation, all the pain, endless suffering, nothing of this was real anymore, it was finally just her. She kissed him hard and moaned into his mouth and all he could say was her name, as nothing else mattered anymore, and when she grazed her fingernails down his back, he couldn't hold himself back anymore and came with one of the most intense orgasm of his life. He heard white noise, felt his heart thumping, briefly thought of dying right now, images flooded through his brain but he couldn't hold any of these, while he exploded into her. While he was lost, falling through time and space, his only reality her holding onto him and moaning his name, he felt her clenching around his shaft and coming just seconds after him again. He clung to her, as the last waves of his orgasm still rolled through him, and managed to turn around and pull her on top of him without slipping out of her. He cradled her in his arms on his chest and couldn't find any words, nothing to describe what he felt.

They laid in silence for a long time. Finally he felt himself getting soft and slipping out of her. She stirred and raised her head, just enough to make eye-contact. "I already miss you. Can we do it soon again?" Her smile was weak but genuine and he'd swear to god it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You know you're shaking up with a man in his 40ies. Just give me a short break and then we can do it again, whenever you want." He let his fingers run through her hair, taking in her beauty. He couldn't believe that she was his. This was his lover, she was in bed with him now, they had just made love and would do it again, maybe not now but obviously soon, they would sleep wrapped around each other for the rest of the night and apparently neither of them felt the urge to run away. She somehow had read his thoughts. She crawled up to kiss him and muttered into his ear "I guess we are really into something good, you and I."

There was no answer to that, that would have done justice to what he felt for her, so he just held her gaze and kept caressing her back. He could see how tired she was. And honestly, he could think of worse ways to spend the afterglow than to fall asleep in her arms. He cradled her gently.

"As much as I wanna talk, I guess maybe we sleep now for a couple of hours and then...I have some more ideas to thank you for dinner..."

She smiled, kissed him softly and made a perfect night even more perfect by simply saying "You know that I love you, do you?"


	23. The morning after

He woke up a couple hours later, it was still dark in the room and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Then the memories flooded back in and he pulled her a bit closer. She stirred and mumbled "Do we have to get up yet?"

He denied that and was about to tell her to go back to sleep when he felt her hands moving down his chest and abdomen, slowly but with clear intentions, very promising. He answered her implied suggestion immediatly by kissing her and caressing her.  
Soon they made love again, and it was very slow and honestly very different to what they both had experienced in the years before. 

His lifestyle never had included the chance of constant relationships, although he had always preferred one-night-stands, he had had affairs, even sometimes longer ones - he had been sticking around long enough to get Julia pregnant - he had been assigned on some jobs long enough to get into something with co-workers or local girls but quite often his job took him to remote areas where cover was essential to survive and he had spent long months alone in the deserts of the world or other warzone shitholes. And then sex was just not an option.

He knew that some of his team members had long-term relationships, some were even married, but he had always been alone.

To spend the night with someone he loved was a unique and new experience for him, usually he would try to avoid sticking around longer than...well, longer than necessary. The only exception over the last years had been Astrid, but he had always made very clear that he valued their friendship with benefits but was not up for anything more. And when he'd spent the night afterwards it had been a matter of convenience but had included no romantic feelings from his side. He had never asked what she felt for him because he didn't want to know. He wasn't sure about Carrie's history of relationships, obviosly there had been Brody and Jonas, and probably numerous other guys, but he hoped that what they had was special for her as well. 

But now he was in bed with Carrie and it had just felt natural to fell asleep together, wrapped around each other, and when they just had been doing it again, her sleepy movements and soft sighs while she had hold on to him had stirred emotions in him he honestly hadn't known he was capable of. And now she was curled up against his side and as far as he could tell sleeping again. 

He decided to try to sleep some more hours too and was surprised when he noticed that sleep took him almost in an instant.

The next time he woke up it was bright and sunny in the room. Carrie was still sleeping, one arm laying heavily on his chest. He wiggled out of her embrace and considered to have a shower but decided for coffee first. 

The kitchen was a mess and it took him some time to find the coffee and two mugs. Breakfast-suitable items were not in sight (and he didn't consider Frannie's toddler dinosaur cereals as breakfast) but then he found a couple of boxes with pop tarts. He nearly cringed from disgust but had to smile at the same time as he perfectly could picture Carrie in a typical morning rush, coffee mug in one hand, pop-tart in the other, a ball of energy, while waiting for Frannie to finish her muesli. And in the end, who was he to judge, he had lived on tuna, coffee and booze for long periods of time. But maybe he was really getting old, he felt himself changing, and the ability to value food as more than nutrition was maybe part of that change - fucking comfort creature he was now. Next thing would be hosting a bbq in the lawn for the neighbors, he thought with grim amusement.

He toasted some pop tarts, blueberry and cinnamon, and poured two large mugs of coffee and returned with everything to the bedroom. Carrie was awake and smiled at him, hairs tousled, her breasts emerging above the rumpled sheets when she sat up.

"Uhm, breakfast. I smell coffee and pop tarts."

"Yeah, I guess you used all your superpowers for dinner, I couldn't find anything else suitable for breakfast."

"Well, if you complain, I'll serve cold baked beans from the can next time you are here for dinner."

He climbed back onto the bed and crawled next to her under the sheets and handed her one mug.

"I am not complaining, just stating the obvious. And pop tarts are fine to me, as long as they go along with that beautiful view." He bent over and kissed her and then stuffed a bite of blueberry pop tart in her mouth. "And as I already proofed that my cooking skills are nearly not worth to mention, I could volunteer to do some shopping for breakfast next time. I guess, I could manage bread, cheese and muesli."

He was amazed by how easy this was. Not the usual morning after awkwardness, just their usual fondly bantering and closeness.

And the pop tarts weren't as bad as he'd thought.

She leant against his shoulder and they ate and drank in peaceful silence for a while.

"When did you get that furniture into here? It is beautiful."

"Thursday."

"It's funny, I was pretty sure when I came home that day, that you had been around, your aftershave was lingering in the air but I didn't take the thought any further."

"See, more superpowers, you have a sixth sense when it comes to me." He squeezed her hand. It had been a joke but somehow was very true, he thought.

"Why did you do this?" She gestured at the furniture, the candles, the flowers.

"I wanted it to be right, for...the first time. I wanted a night for you to remember, for us. I've never been happier as tonight but I guess it can't be always like this. There certainly will be rough patches ahead of us...that is just who we are...and I want us to have happy memories. And when there is a quarrel or you are mad at me or doubt me, I want us to be able to remember how happy we can be and should be." His voice was low and very serious now. "And...well, as you said it, stairs are still difficult, and I have no idea how much that will still get better. And that's ok, it could be much worse. When having sex with you was still a dream, I dreamt of...different things...and what we have now is much better, but right now, I can't carry you upstairs like I maybe would like to and can't do some other things. And this room needed some fresh up, before I could...I was here when I was not in a good place...and...I wanted that memory to vanish, I guess. And in the end, I thought, with me being the cripple I am and being madly in love with you, we needed a downstairs bedroom with a bed where I can live out all my fantasies."

That had been a long speech for him, and she hadn't interrupted him. He was probably right with most things he had said, but she hated his low self-esteem.

"You are not a cripple. I know you hated the bed but what else should I have done? Leave you in a hospital? I literally got you back from death, do you really think, I care about your leg? Although, I mean, I do care...about you, that is...but not in terms if you can carry me upstairs. And now we have a bedroom together, that is beautiful, you chose well." She kissed a crumble of pop tarts from his chin.

"What about the rest of the day?"he changed the topic.

"Uhm, depends..."

"On what?"

"On you I guess."

"How's that?"

"Well, Quinn, I am a mom and Franny needs some time with me as well. So sooner or later I will go and get her from Maggie, maybe have coffee or lunch with my sister, then take Frannie to the park...normal things. Uh, and someone has to clean up the kitchen."

"And what about that depends on me?"

"Whether you are up for a normal day with mundane things or not. Maybe you motel room offers other options."

He turned to look at her. "Carrie, I thought I made myself very clear that I am up to anything related to you. And if that means lunch with your sister and then park with Frannie, I am fine with that."

She smiled. "Well, then let's start with a shower. You can join me, that'll save water." And with that, she was out of the bed and the sight of her of her butt made him forget about mundane things. He stuffed another pop tart into his mouth and followed her. Cinnamon was better than blueberry, he thought, making a mental note to himself that he really needed to bring some bread, cheese and fruits for breakfast next time. 

She was already under the hot stream and had turned her back to him. He stepped behind her and reached out to pull her into an embrace. She was pliant against his body and he was about to ask her if she'd really been thinking he'd just shower with her, wash his hair and then step out again...but then he decided that actions speak louder than words, reached out for the shower gel and started to lather her. She turned around and did the same with him, pulling him into a kiss while doing so. He felt himself getting hard within seconds. God, what this woman does to me, he thought. She slowly pushed him back and said "sit down".

"Jesus, Carrie, way to kill a mood. I might have mentioned "cripple" but in a kind of figurative sense. What part of my reactions and body functions yesterday made you think, I need a rest before shacking up with you?" She could see from his stern look and furrowed brow he was seriously getting pissed.

She smiled and shook her head and kept pushing him back with soft force.

"I get it, you are still mad at me, especially about the seat...how about if I'll show you a new usage for the seat?"

She pushed him down onto the seat, straddled him and made contact with her pussy on his cock, lowering herself onto him.

"See, this is why I ordered it" she teased him. "If only I had known..." he deadpanned, not at all angry anymore, more the opposite, and slowly pulled her down.

"You just lean back and do nothing, let me make love to you, just enjoy." And he was wise enough to obey and they were done talking and she slowly rocked herself up and down, building a pace and rhythm. He briefly thought, maybe he should thank Bill for installing that seat, but pushed that thought away, silly as it was. 

And then he was done thinking anyway, because Carrie adjusted the pace and deepness of her thrusts and he started to support that with his hips and took one of her nipples into his mouth and pinched the other one between thumb and index finger, he had just a second left before he felt her clenching around his cock, moaning his name and taking him with her over the edge. They sat under the warm spray a while afterwards, Carrie still on his lap, cradled against his chest, her head on his shoulder, his cock still inside her, twitching every now and then.

"Ok, I am convinced now. The seat can stay" he managed to say after a while and they both had to laugh.

\---------------------

Maggie was just about to prepare lunch when her view went out of the window down the peaceful neighboorhood lane. Her view lingered a bit longer, she saw her sister and Peter strolling down the lane. Peter without crutches, one arm around Carrie's shoulder, and only a trained eye like hers could probably see he was leaning into her for support and still limping a bit. They walked slow, apparently talking and she could see her sister laughing about something he said.   
That was interesting, she never had picture him to be funny and entertaining, he always had appeared to her as very serious and sincere.

They stopped and he bent down to kiss Carrie and she forget to feel bad for observing them because it filled her with an unknown happiness to see how fondly he was treating her sister, holding her in a tight embrace and kissing her tenderly. And even more fascinating, how her sister responded to him, all her typical edginess had vanished, and she reached out with her hand to cup his chin, got on tip-toes and kissed him back. Then she said something to him and Maggie could see a half-smile on his face and had to admit he was indeed damn attractive. They made a beautiful couple, those two, and Maggie was suddenly filled with brimming happiness to see Carrie so off-guard, relaxed and happy. 

She chuckled to herself when she realized she was pretty damn sure that those two were still in the state of "the morning after"-bliss. Finally, she thought.

\----------------------

They stayed for lunch and again Maggie was amazed about her sister's overnight change. She couldn't exactly put a finger on it but Carrie seemed much more relaxed, less agitated and much softer. Peter was still a very silent guest, but she could see how fond he was of Carrie and Frannie, and he gave on honest try to make a nice conversation over lunch with Bill. The three of them left after lunch for a walk to the playground and while Carrie went to collect Frannie's belongings, Maggie gave Peter a quick hug.

"I am happy for both of you."

She felt him stiffen and then relax again.

"Me too." He replied softly. "Thanks for your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Quinn predicted their future will have some rough patches too and they will get to those, soon. But they deserved some happiness first, at least I needed some happiness first. 
> 
> As always, your comments are highly appreciated.
> 
> Do they still do pop tarts in the US? My first visit stateside was more than 20 years ago as a teenager, and I still remember my hosts having pop tarts in like 10 different flavors.


	24. Several weeks later

As Quinn had predicted, not all their problems had vanished into thin air but mostly they had been doing well, more than well, they were happy.

But Quinn still occupied his motel room, which Carrie bugged but she tried to stay calm about it. After that first night he had started to stay numerous nights a week at her place and even tried to help her with Frannie. Quite often drove her to daycare in the morning now so Carrie could have an early start in the office and didn't have to rush in the afternoon. He always made sure to get up with her and even if quite often breakfast was still pop tarts, at least for the weekends he made sure to bring bread, cheese, and fruits and to feed her well.  
They kept the habit to go out for dates once a week together, when Maggie wasn't available, they relied on the babysitter and they both enjoyed those evenings a lot. Sometimes they just went for dinner, sometimes it was movies, a jazz session or when the evenings finally got less chilly just a stroll by the river. 

There was nearly no night he spent at her house without them making love, their desire for each other seemed to be a deep well, nourished by the years they had missed each other. Most of their nighttime pleasure was still the tender, yet passionate love making from their first night but bit by bit they trusted each other enough to reveal different kind of fantasies and preferences - and to try those out. And finally, in a night when the babysitter was indeed sleeping upstairs, he had fucked her on the kitchen counter, gagging her with his hand (which had terrible bite marks after - but it had been worth it, he decided). Every now and then he was more dominant now, sometimes at the edge of being brutal, and was surprised and even more aroused when he noticed how enthusiastically she responded to this. But it was kind of a set pattern, that even after the roughest encounter, the next time was always very sweet and soft and slow. And in what ever way he had had her, she always felt asleep in his arms or wrapped around him. Sometimes he awakened in the middle of the night from her tender assaults in his nether regions, his cock engulfed by her mouth, her hands on his tighs, hips and abdomen. She nearly never spoke afterwards just held him in a tight embrace. He enjoyed those nights a lot, not just the immense pleasure they brought him but especially the sense of intimacy he felt in those nights when she hold him afterwards.

He usually wouldn't interrupt her nightly sleep, knowing she nearly never got enough of it anyway, but he loved to wake her up on weekends with one or two questing fingers at her entrance, slowly working her wet before she was fully conscious, to overwhelm her with some early morning pleasure and then let her float back to sleep for another couple of hours. One morning she said, she dreamt he had made love to her and they both had to laugh when he admitted that in fact he really had but apparently she didn't fully wake up, although her reaction had been enthusiastically.

Quite often they just sat in the living room in the evenings at were listening to music and talking. Carrie had gotten a record player belonging to her late father down from Maggie's attic so they could hear his parents' records. Their taste of music had included some classic jazz Carrie herself happened to like a lot. Honestly he did not care a lot about music, he preferred reading, but he liked to be with her when she was listening to music (was there anything he didn't like see her doing?), she seemed to relax then and her face mirrowed all kinds of emotions.

Even if they got used to talk to each other more and more, not only about random things but about difficult topics as well, some issues were still very difficult, sometimes lingering unpleasantly in the air. He couldn't explain to her why he still kept that motel unit and spent two or three nights a week there. It was not that she wouldn't allow him space and time for retreat at her house. She even had offered him to have the downstairs bedroom as his room and just decide every day whether to spend the night together or not, and that offer had been honest and had held no bitterness. Most of his stuff had ended up in her house anyway. She had made room in all drawers, boards and wardrobes for him (not that he owned that much) and the box with his parents' belongings stood on a shelf in her wardrobe. She had made a copy of the picture with them holding him as a baby and put it a frame. It stood at the mantle piece of the chimney, next to pictures of her family. He wouldn't have thought about it but it touched him deeply how much she cared. 

But still he returned to that motel, he couldn't explain it either. Sometimes it felt like he needed a break from that peaceful, domestic life they had now. Like he needed some darkness and shadows, only to crave for Carrie's presence and the comfort of being with her immediatly after he had arrived in the motel. He dreamt less in the nights with her, part of it because of the meds he finally was taking, but he liked the thought of her presence being the cure to his dreams. The dreams were worse though in the nights he spent alone. Sometimes he thought those nights alone were his atonement for his deeds, things he shouldn't forget. On other days he found himself fucking stupid for not trying to leave those finally behind him. But in a way he was convinced that letting the dreams and fears still have their presence in his life somehow kept them away for the nights he was with her.

He knew that this arrangement sooner or later would cause a major fight between him and Carrie because clearly for her it felt like he wasn't completely sure about life with her. Until now she had managed not to comment on his commuting between the two places but he knew it hurt her and she wished he would finally move in with her. Which was odd in a way because quite often he sensed she needed some space too, but he never commented on that too.

The other large unsolved topic was his professional future. His therapy had made good progress and he was pretty sure he was about to reach his limits. He wouldn't regain back the same strength in the leg, but was constantly without crutches now, limping only from exhaustion when the day or the exercise had been too long. Stairs were sometimes painful but he could manage them. He had kept asthma-like episodes from his pneumonia which had been too long untreated in Syria but with a nebulizer he had learnt to manage those episodes and they were rare as long as he had no cold.  
His damaged kidney was down to about 20% of its normal effictivity but that meant they hadn't to take it out and as long as the other one was working there wouldn't be any issues. He was determined to keep his kidney or any other part of his body out of harm's way so there shouldn't be any major problems. He even had started to go for runs with Carrie several times a week, so there was really no reason to stay on sick leave any longer. Which brought up the question what he could do, and how he could get Dar into it. Because more than ever he didn't want to go back. One reason was Carrie, he simply had to much to loose now and he couldn't stand the idea of putting her through sorrow and fear again. The other thing was, he just couldn't do it anymore. He hadn't touched a gun since he was back and the thought of adding up another casualty to his already long list was unbearable. He just couldn't do it anymore. But he figured that wouldn't be enough reason for Dar who had a tendency not to be very receptive for morality or ethics, let alone personal wishes of his subordinates. And technically he was still part of the group. So sooner or later he would have to talk to him but he found new reasons to delay that conversation every day. But he never mentioned that to Carrie and she never asked, but subconsiously they both knew they were living on borrowed time as long as this wasn't solved.

Carrie went through one of the most stable periods of the long history of her condition. She talked with Maggie about it and Maggie reassured her not only to put this on Quinn's presence in her life but to be proud of herself too. She had been stable of her meds for a long time, saw her doctor regularly, did a less stressful job and had finally managed to find a kind of peaceful balance between her worklife and family life. Plus she still went for regular exercises and slept much more and more regularly than ever before in her life as active case officer. Carrie was afraid her illness could always come back, but Maggie took some of that fear by telling her that it was a long way from being this stable into a manic surge and that she would notice early enough to countersteer. As long as she took her meds. She told her too that sometimes a bad day was just a bad day and she should allow those to herself without fearing her condition being the reason for it, although she told her too, she would probably always need her mood stabilizers.  
What Carrie told nobody about, neither Quinn nor her sister, were her dreams. She sometimes had terrible nightmares, but so far had always somehow managed to wake up and calm down before Quinn woke up. In bad nights she couldn't go back to sleep then, and those were the nights when she started to ponder about why he still kept constantly returning to his motel. She had tailed him once to see if he really was going to the motel or somewhere else (to see someone else) and had cried from embarrasment and guilt on her way home. She never told him.

In other nights she managed to calm down herself enough to find cure in his proximity and steady presence, sometimes she dove down under the bedcover then and woke him him up by going down, engulfing his cock with her mouth and seducing him. She knew he never figured the real reasons behind her tender assaults in those nights, that she needed him, that possessing him, tasting him, bringing the utmost pleasure to him with her mouth and tongue was her only way to make it through those nights and to feel he was with her, not leaving her again to die. She couldn't talk to him about it, she just could give herself to him and hold on to him tight afterwards.

But still some nights were so terrible that she silently climbed out of the bed and got herself Xanax and an Ambien, because she was to afraid to close her eyes again and see her worst fears again. When he wasn't around it was always pills after a dream.

But the most difficult topic of all was his son. He never mentioned him and the rare times she did so he locked up like an oyster, eyes cold, his jaw bones grinding. He was adorable with Frannie and the two of them had formed a nice bond including reading and playing a lot with the Lego sets he had bought her but sometimes she catched him watching her daughter and having a unbelievable sad expression in his eyes.

But overall they both thought they were doing good, better than they had ever expected, given where they came from.

\------------------------------

It was a usual Thursday night and they had dinner at home with Frannie. Carrie had cooked one of her five edible meals and while she was cleaning the kitchen Quinn was upstairs playing with Frannie. She joined them after a while to give Frannie a bath and when Frannie was asleep she and Quinn laid lazily on the couch in the living room, Quinn reading a book, while she was browsing through a magazine, her legs on his lap.

He took a deep breath and lowered his book. "I'll see Dar and Saul tomorrow, up in Langley."

She gave him a serious look. "Why is that?"

"It has to happen sooner or later, I can't play the sick leave card any longer, and I wanted to be the one doing the first move, not waiting for my shrink to report me to Dar. And I asked Saul to join because I hope I can change to his service."

"Okay..." she was unsure what to make out of it.

"Carrie, sooner or later I have to do something and this is just a first step to considering options. We can go together in the morning and go back together in the afternoon, I'll wait for you until you're done and tell you everything. And then we take it from there, ok?" He started to massage her feet and ankles while talking and she decided to let it go and to wait for the next day, although she figured mischief whenever Dar was involved.

They went to bed soon afterwards and he extended the massage he had started on the couch to her whole body and when she felt like somewhere between delirious and comatose he gently entered her from behind, using his fingers slowly circling around her clit to support her ascent. His hips slowly rocked her from behind and he whispered words of love into her ear. She felt completely sure in that loving enlacement and soon after he had come himself a few more of his soft rocking thrusts and his caressing fingers took her over the edge and directly into sleep.


	25. Another nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all that bliss, it is time to deal with real life again...some clouds are slowly darkening the sky...

He woke up two hours later. Carrie was tossing and turning next to him, muttering words he couldn't understand, covered with sweat.

\-----------------------

It had started with her being back in the square in Teheran. Brody was just about to be pulled up by the crane and she was screaming blue murder, crying for her unborn child who would never meet her father. She saw his execution in all its painful details, his face getting red, then blue and finally violet bordering black, his legs twitching and she heard the screaming crowd and she knew it was her responsibilty, she had talked him into this.

She saw Frannie's birth, although it wasn't Frannie's birth, the creature they cut out of her womb was a baby but carried Javadi's facial features, his face a ugly grimace, hissing "you'll never be free".

She was in Islamabad now, seeing Sandy dying, loosing Fara, and then Aayan being shot by Haqqani. Saul, back in Makine, only this time he pulled the trigger and his blood and brain were all over the screens in the ops room.

Then she was in the crowd, searching for Quinn, but she came to late, he had already detonated the bomb, Haqqani's truck flew through the air, shattered into million pieces. She immeadiatly knew that Khan's men had made Quinn's position and there was nothing she could do, she could just watch them pulling him out of his hide-out and beating him to death right there. Khan stood behind her and forced her to watch, holding her arms tied up behind her back, telling her he would have her now and then kill her too. 

 

\--------------------------

He tried everything to wake her up, briefly wondering if he was the same when he had a nightmare. She screamed and kicked and groaned heartbreakingly, he couldn't make out what she was saying, he heard some names though, Frannie, Quinn, Fara, Javadi, but she wouldn't wake up. He tried to talk to her, gentle in the beginning, then louder and more fervently, he shook her by the shoulder, he switched the lights on, nothing. Oh shit, he was so bad at this, he thought. This was even worse than having a nightmare himself.

\--------------------------

She was back in the states, giving Frannie a bath, and this time she wasn't stopping, she just held her under water until she stopped moving. She drowned her daughter.

She is back in Berlin, trying to find cover in the woods, trying to make out her persecutor. She aims, takes the shot and hits her target. This time he is not wearing a bullet proof vest. It is a good shot, directly through the heart and he is dead immediatly. She killed him - it is Quinn, he lies on the humid grass in the forest and her hands are covered with his blood.

Next image - she is on her way to the airport to drop Frannie, to send her back to the US. When they arrive at the hangar an unknown persecutor is waiting for them, kidnapping Frannie and the last image she sees in that sequence is her screaming daughter carried cruelly away into a dark van.

Another scene, the impressions came faster and faster now, she was in Quinn's garage in Berlin, Jonas had lost Quinn and just left, she tried to follow Quinn and finds him by the canal, can see his frame leaning against a large block but as much as she screams he doesn't hear her. She tries to run but she is not fast enough, it is like she is caught in slow motion, and then she hears the thump of a body hitting the water surface and she sees him drowning. She runs and she screams and finally she makes it to the bank but she can't see him, so she jumps into the water. It is so fucking cold and she can't find him, but she has to keep diving, to keep kicking, to keep looking...

\--------------------------

He was yelling her name now, knealing on the bed in front if her, trying to pull her into a sitting position and shaking her, but she kept screaming and kicking. Oh God, if he just could wake her up. In another desperate attempt he took the glass of water from her night stand and emptied its content into her face. 

She gasped for air and kicked him, suddenly her eyes were wide open, terrified scanning the surroundings. He could tell she had no idea where she was.

"Carrie, look at me. It's me. You were dreaming. You are at home, with me, in your house, in our bedroom. Whatever it was, it is over now. Nothing will happen to you."

She looked like a wounded animal, heavily breathing, desperatly trying to get some more oxygen into her lungs but filled with the urge to flee.

"Carrie, look at me. Breathe with me. Three in, three out. Like this, one, two, three. And out, one, two, three." He counted for her through several breaths, still knealing in front of her and holding her at her shoulders.

She was shivering but finally her breath calmed down a bit.

"Shit, Carrie, what was that about? It took me ages to get through to you." He wanted to cradle her in his arms, but she was still restless and agitated, bordering panic.

"Quinn, where is Frannie, where is Frannie, I need to know she is ok."

"I'll go check in an instant. But she is fine. But what was that with you?"

She sank back in her pillow, wet as she was from sweat and water. "A terrible clusterfuck. Please can you get me some Xanax and an Ambien?" She was shaking and he got up to get fresh clothes for her, to check on Frannie and to get the requested pills. 

Of course Frannie was deep asleep, a bunch of ginger air peeking out from under her blanket, nothing else to be seen. He went to the bathroom and got the vials out of her med cabinet, briefly studying the labels because Carrie had some potent stuff in there and he didn't want to mix up her meds. When he checked the Xanax vial it nearly knocked him out of his breath. The date on the label said she got the vial with 20 tablet 7 weeks ago and there were just 4 pills left. So within 42 days she had taken 16 doses of a highly potent tranquilizer - and he knew nothing about this. He put both vials back in the cabinet and turned on the hot water faucet, took a deep breath and went back to her. As far as he had a vote in this she would not get number 17 under his watch.

She was still a mess, shivering and breathing shallow. He climbed next to her and pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her forehead gently. 

"That was pretty bad, huh? Wanna tell me about it?"

She sighed and said with a very small voice " Not now. I can't, it would bring it back, please don't make me."

"No, I won't. But I can take it, in case you wanna tell me, ok?"

"Where are my pills?"

Here we go, he thought, fighting against his very own anger and, somehow, sadness. "Carrie, I didn't bring those pills. You took 16 of these within the last 7 weeks."

The pushed him away and sat upright immediatly. "And you are judging this now? Quinn, I need them when I dream, please get them." He pulled her back in his arms, that at least he could do, and swore to himself not to start a fight.

"I won't fight with you, not now, but tell me just one thing: How come, you had 16 nights so bad that you needed them without me knowing anything about it? Where is the part I missed? The part where you maybe tell me, your partner, lover, friend, call me whatever, but when did you tell me, you are miserable and need help? Because the woman I am with quite often told me, she knows my shit and can help me. And she did. And maybe I could just do the same for you, if you just let me." He couldn't help it but anger and sadness were colouring his voice. He wished he could just skip it and take care of her, but he really felt betrayed.

She didn't answer immediatly but curled up in fetal position against his chest, still visibly shaking.

"Come with me, I made you a bath."

"Quinn, please, I need those pills."

"Please, there must be other ways. Just let me try. I promise, if you still feel you need them in let's say 30 minutes, I won't say anything but let me at least try to help you. And you need to change and warm up anyway, you are shaking."

She did not respond, so he just scooped her up and carried her towards the bathroom, undressed her and himself and placed her in the bathtub, climbing in himself right behind her, bracing his legs left and right of her and and pulling her back against his chest. They sat there for a couple of minutes, neither of them speaking, but he could feel her calming down and relaxing. Finally she laid her head back to rest on his shoulder and started telling him about her dream.

Not everything, some images were so horrid, she couldn't even think of them again let alone report them, not to him, but most of it. He could feel her fear and panic rising again while she was talking, but all he could do was to be with her and hold her.

He added more hot water every now and then and just held her, his own chin on her shoulder, and listened. When she was done talking he pulled her a bit closer and started caressing her arms and shoulders, muttering phrases of comfort into her ear. And she had to admit, it helped. His warm and steady presence, her arms around her, the warm water - it helped and slowly the terror vanished.

"I only took them twice when you were here. And there were some nights when I took two. Overall maybe 9 or 10 nights."

He knew this was the closest thing to an apology he would get. But still, that left about two nights a week. And he felt the stab of guilt that it were mostly the nights when he wasn't around. So he said nothing, just turned his head and kissed her neck, just below her earlobe and kept holding her.

"If you ever feel again like putting yourself on death's path you'll tell me before and won't just vanish, will you? Because then, I could go first. I couldn't go through loosing you again." Her voice was even, nearly without any sign of emotion at all, but still her statement crawled under his skin and made him feel cold, even in the warm water. Later, he would wonder if she had an epiphany, but he couldn't know that now.

"That was in your dream?"

"Among other things, yes."

"You know, nightmares usually show the past or take images from the past, weave it with our worst fears and are neither the present nor the future. So once you are awake, they don't reveal anything new, they don't show the future, they only use what you already knew."

"Did your shrink teach you that?"

"Yes, but I find it kind of helpful."

She giggled, very silent and exhausted, but she giggled.

"What?"

"Sorry, it is just...so not you to say something like that."

He let out a small laugh which she could more feel in his chest than actually hear it. "I am extremly adaptive."

He had kept caressing her arm throughout the conversation and when she now raised her arm to reach out for his nape to pull him closer, his hand suddenly made contact with her breast. She sighed "oh", surprised, pleased and lacking other words. He wasn't completely sure about it but why not. So he kept caressing her breast, using both hands now and started kissing her earlobe. She let out another small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. 

"It is ok, baby, I got you. You don't do anything, I got you." He pulled her closer.

Her head rolled back on his shoulder when one of his hands went down to her pussy.

"You sure, that's what you want?"

He felt her nod and started caressing her mount with his fingers, the other hand still at her breast. When he felt her breath accelerating he dipped two fingers into her and used his thumb to circle her clit. She relaxed completely, her body was pliant and boneless against the bulk of his chest and her orgasm washed away the last remainder of panic and fear for that night. after a while he lifted her out of the tub, wrapped her into a large towel and carried her to bed where she fell asleep in his tight embrace.

He was awake long after, torn between relief and worry, because he still had no idea what Dar was up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will center around Dar and Quinn, will take me a few days.
> 
> As always, your comments are highly appreciated.


	26. Played by two old men

The next morning they were both tired. Quinn got up and let her sleep a bit longer, he was awake anyway. He brought her some coffee and a sandwich to her bed before he took care of Frannie. They left in a rush, dropped Frannie and went up to Langley. She was silent and he was antsy. Later he would think of this car ride as the moment when things started to change and that he should have used those minutes to say something meaningful. But even after the intimacy with which they had ended last nights short quarrel about her meds it still bugged him how she hadn't told him about her dreams before. And he was preoccupied with his meeting with Dar, so he decided they could talk later. It was Friday, they had a whole weekend ahead of them, no special plans, so they could talk tonight. Later he thought, if only he had say something right there, but how could he have known?

They parted in the parking lot, she promised to be done as early as by 2 pm to go home together. She seemed distant but in the end he was maybe too because he was indeed unhealthy excited about his meeting with Dar. 

He made his way to Dar's office. 

Dar was expecting him, with coffee and donuts. Why did that guy so often come round with food, Quinn briefly wondered. It is not that he was someone he would have liked to socialize with, but maybe there were just not that many people who would like to have breakfast with Dar, and he had to use every opportunity. Funny thing tough, up until a couple of months ago it would had never occured to him to give a batshit about Dar's interpersonal relationships. 

They started their conversation with Dar asking questions about Quinn's health and rehab, he actually had read the files, he even made some acknowledging comments about Quinn's progress over the last weeks. Quinn knew him well enough not to let his guard down and relax. Saul was nowhere to be seen, Dar said, he would join them later.

"Well, Peter, as far as I see it and you just enhanced that, I guess there is no reason for you to stay on sick leave anymore. I guess this is why you were asking for that meeting, weren't you?"

"In a way, yes. I am ready to start working again, but..." he braced himself for the words he had to say now "...not with the group." It was out and it felt strange, like he was ending his lifeline for nearly two decades. But, he had another lifeline now.

Dar kept the neutral to friendly façade, taking another bite from a strawberry frosted donut. How can anyone like pink artificial crap like that, Quinn thought, but took another bite from his chocolate donut too, he could play this as cool as Dar (even if he had to fight against nausea...donuts into a nervous stomache are no good idea).

"Not with the group. How come? When you joined the CIA it was your only goal for years to be trained for the group, to follow your father's footsteps, and you have been a most valuable agent for 15 years now. You tried to get out a couple of years ago and came back, and I took you back, so why now?"

"I can't do it anymore. One thing is my health, both physically and mentally. This is as good as it is going to get, I won't gain back a 100%." He'd rather bite the table than talking about his mental health with Dar, well aware that displaying weakness was always risky, but what else could he do? "The other thing is, I came to realize, that my professional duties interfere with the kind of life I wish for myself now." Crap, did he really say that? Quite a twisted way to put it in words.

Dar smirked. "By the so called life you wish for, you mean, you wanna come home at night and live a normal life with wife, children and ameneties like regular sex, food and BBQs with the neighbors? Watch football on Saturdays, walk the dog in the morning? I never took you for being so...ordinary....thought, you would always look for the thrill, see missions as a way to allow your own darkness to crawl out and take its toll without having to face legal consequences. Even better, to be allowed to deal with your anger sanctioned by government. Because, it feels good to be the master of life and deaths, doesn't it? To have the power to take revenge?"

Quinn took a deep breath, determined not to take the bait and not to jump out of his skin.

"I always thought, the flame nourishing your anger would burn eternal" Dar went on.

"Listen, for 15 years, I gave everything for the group, I went everywhere, never questioned, never hesitated, never said no. I abandonned my own child to spare him from my own destiny, I never got close, never got attached. I lived a life which doesn't deserve to be called life. But I am not that guy anymore. I have people in my life now I care about and I just can't go back. And, I am not angry anymore. I grieve, but I am not angry anymore."

Dar looked at him, silent for a while. It was not that he hadn't see it coming, Peter had been changing since...well, since Carrie Mathison. Peter had fought it, and he himself had fought it too. But he knew when he had lost, even if he took this loss very personal. But he wouldn't allow his emotions to shine through, he needed him for one last mission. He knew the timing was right when Peter had asked for this meeting. He knew there was no way to keep him in the group, he wouldn't be useful anymore and the group couldn't afford to take the risk of having somebody with them who wasn't whole-heartly in and lived the mission. He was not his guy anymore, he was someone else's now.

But Peter didn't know yet that he was already willing to let him go and this was the advantage he was going to use now. In a way he admired the air of silent confidence and calmness this man had, it reminded him a lot of his father, John Quinn. With the same determination he had fought for his country for 15 years he was now defeating the still weak bonds he made in his new life. And again, Dar didn't know many men who had come back from one of Assad's cellars and somehow coped. And as far as he could see, Peter and Carrie did quite a good job in coping. He had Elisabeth's heart, he suddenly realized, this was her legacy. He hadn't thought about the beautiful, caring woman for years, but looking at her son now, at the doorstep to a new life, made him realize, that she probably would be proud of him. Enough of this walk down the fucking memory lane, there was work to be done, he scolded himself.

"Well, you know that your assignment with the group is not something you can quit like any ordinary job. You know what you signed."

"I know." Quinn had learnt long ago that less talking on his side usually made the other side talk more.

"The group still needs you. In fact, I just have an assignment coming up where I would see you. And you know, a unit like the group can't function with each member having moral crises every week, an itch to scratch here and there, picking assignments like donut flavors...we are soldiers, Peter, and if our country needs us, we follow that call."

Again, Quinn said nothing.

"You know, we have evidence about a mole in the organisation for years now?"

Quinn was on guard, because he had no idea where Dar was heading with that sudden change of topic.

"Remember Berlin?"

How could he not.

"We never figured out who put that kill order in Saul's and your little operation."

(Remember, this story left canon after episode 5.5, they never made out Alison and the Russians as traitors in this version of the story, so Alison is still station chief)

Quinn was still silent, but Dar could see a glint in his eyes. Promising.

"We have intel now that a window of opportunity is coming up, in Berlin. I haven't to explain to you how important it would be to catch that mole and to fill that gap."

Dar briefly wondered if he should already play his two last cards, without Saul being present. Why was he always late recently, he wondered.

He decided to go further.

"I remember you making Carrie's safety a prerequisite for going to Syria. Those are the people who were after her, after you, and now we can end this. You can end this." The bait was placed.

Saul entered the room, impeccable timing, Dar thought with a sardonic smile.

The men greeted each other and Dar gave Saul a brief nod.

"Peter, I am glad you asked me to join this discussion. Even if you know that under normal circumstances there is no formal way to transfer from the group into another unit in the CIA constantly, you and I go back quite a while and I would like to work with you again."

Quinn knew a good cop, bad cop performance when he saw one, and now he was right in the fucking middle of it.

"With you having been the secondary target in Berlin, your role would be to work at the station as an analyst, so no covert op. We figure your presence will rattle someone's cage, maybe bait them out of cover, and the window is coming up soon..."

"Why should I do this?"

"Well, there are only two persons who could. The other one being Carrie, but with her being the primary..."

"No way." Quinn barked. Dar had to swallow the satisfied smirk, the trap was about to snap.

Saul went on "As I said you would go as analyst, as a member of my unit. Doing some research with the BND about local terror cells, so called sleepers. You would take two of your team members for your own protection. I agreed with Dar about your permanent transfer into my team as analyst here in Langley after your return."

Now it was all laid out on table. Quinn closed his eyes and took a deep sigh. He knew he was being played like a fiddle here. Of course Dar would not just let him go, but leave one last mark, just for having the upper hand. And he had to acknowledge, they chose well, so damn well.

Every agent with decency would want to finally get the mole. That was a question of loyality and honor. And that kill order in Berlin and what happened afterwards...that was just another reason, personally and professionally. And Berlin wasn't Syria. No self-extracting mission, with a good possibilty of not having to kill someone. And then, finally out.

"As I said, the window just came up and will close soon enough. We would need to leave on Sunday, expect to be away for two, maybe three weeks."

Quinn felt a cold stone dropping into his guts. Sunday. 

"I need...to consider this....with Carrie."

"We need your answer now. Ah, to make your decision a bit...easier...Saul has your new contract with him, you just need to sign here."

"And if I say no?"

"Well, then Carrie's getting a temporary transfer to the Berlin station and we will have to re-consider your options within the group."

Quinn took the pen and signed the contract, knowing he was probably facing hell back home.


	27. The fight

He was back in the entrance hall by 12, exhausted, restless and seriously troubled. Saul had given him a short briefing on the mission, more details would be revealed when they would arrive in Germany. But the mission itself did not trouble him, it sounded not too difficult and dangerous, and Germany wasn't Syria, he even would be able to communicate with Carrie with some precautions. And he would be out of the group when coming back.

What troubled him, was Carrie. He texted her, asking if she was free for coffee or lunch but she was busy, texting back, she would she him at 2.

So all he could do was wait for her, he even hadn't his own car.

The two hours were long. He knew she would be angry, disappointed, sad, maybe all of it. And he felt bad about it. He remembered last night, her sentence "If you ever feel again like putting yourself on death's path you'll tell me before and won't just vanish, will you? Because then, I could go first. I couldn't go through loosing you again" still fresh in his mind. It had made him shiver. He didn't consider the upcoming mission to be that dangerous but he was pretty sure about Carrie having another opinion. And she always had had a sixth sense.

And then her nightmares. Those he had only learnt about last night. What she had told him about it, had indeed been horrible, and he was pretty sure that she hadn't told him everything. But he was still scared about the meds she had been taking. And, if he was completely honest, it still hurt that she hadn't told him.

His thoughts went back to the morning. The night in the bath tub had been special, and he was glad that he finally indeed had been able to offer her comfort and solace. In a way, and he would never admit that to her, because it was kind of childish, he had been proud that his presence had had at least the same calming effects as the fucking meds...plus some, eh, ... benefits, Xanax probably doesn't have....But for the next nightmare he wouldn't be around. And that indeed felt like betrayal.

And in the morning they had both been tired and in a rush. They hadn't mentioned the night, hadn't mentioned the upcoming conversation with Saul and Dar, hadn't taken the time to kiss goodbye, nor had she wished him good luck or anything else. He wished now he'd taken the time to pull her into an embrace in the car and tell her how much he loved her, how glad he was that she had trusted him enough to talk about her nightmare or that whatever Dar would throw at him wouldn't change anything between them. But he hadn't.

Or that she had hugged him and told him to go kick Dar's fucking ass. But she hadn't.

\--------------------

She came through the security gates shortly after 2 and he could see that she was in a bad mood. He got up to approach her but was still a few steps away from her when Dar made his way through the security gates, with a sardonic half smile. Quinn cursed under his breath, making two long steps to be with Carrie first, putting an arm around her shoulder and giving Dar a piercing look over Carrie's head. Dar shrugged his shoulders but still came over to them.

"Peter, I just wanted to thank you for stopping by today. And Carrie, I hope you'll have a happy weekend." And with that, he snickered and turned.

"What was that about?"

"I'll tell you in the car." He was furious about Dar, knowing he had been this close to reveal him going on a mission with a evil comment towards Carrie - just to proof, he was still in the game, he still could pull his strings.

When they arrived at the car, he briefly thought about pulling her into an embrace, but he knew she wouldn't appreciate that in the agency's parking lot, so they just got into the car, but he leant over then to hug her. But he immediatly noticed, she was not in the mood.

"Let's get Frannie and get home. I had a hell of a morning and I am tired." She started the engine and pulled out of the parking box.

"How did it go with Dar? I am always skeptical if he says something nice. What was he pointing at?" She had a stern look on her face, her eyes were on the street.

Shit, he thought, here we go, no preface, just right into it. He knew if he tried now to side-track, she wouldn't buy it anyway, would probably just get angry, so what's the point.

"He was referring to my conversation with him today. Please, hear me out before you say something, ok?" He took a deep breath and went on, well aware, that her knuckles at the steering wheel went white.

"They asked me to go on one last mission and..." This was as far as he came with his sentence.

"Fuck, you gotta be kidding me. There will always be one last mission, and then you want to be out or get injured or worse, and then try and the next thing his Dar throwing another mission at you and you'll take it. Fuck, how could you? I should have known better and I will not, I can't..."

Hot tears stream down her cheek and she is way over the speed limit.

"Carrie, it's not like that, please hear me out. Let's stop here and talk."

"No, no, no, there is no need to talk." Within seconds she was beyond rationality. There was a crossing with traffic lights down the road, but she didn't slow down, just kept the speed and darted over the crossing, the lights being red. She didn't even notice.

Quinn inhaled a sharp breath. He noticed the car from the left which had to brake hard. "Carrie, stop now. Reckless driving doesn't help here."

She even pushed the accelerator a bit harder, seething with rage. "You call me reckless? I am not the one who throws himself to death whenever the slightest opportunity is coming up. So don't you dare to call me reckless."

They were at the daycare now and she jumped out of the car, he tried to follow her. "Please, let's talk about it, it is not what you think, I am not going to..."

She jeered "oldest line in the world, Quinn, and it never worked - it's not what you think. You think, I never heard that one before? It is exactly the opposite: when I hear that, I know it is exactly what I think. And now go out of the way and let me get my daughter."

He sat back in the car, burying his face in his hands. This was much worse than he had expected. He hadn't seen this version of Carrie since Islamabad. And it scared the crap out if him how they had gotten there in less than 10 minutes, without even having told her, why and where he was going and that it wasn't that bad overall. And he doubted that things would get better with Frannie around now. He briefly thought about driving himself, and not letting her out before they talked it out, but she had the keys, and even if not, only god knew what she would be doing when getting enraged and feeling trapped, he didn't want to see her to grab into the steering wheel from the passenger seat or worse.

She came back with Frannie, Frannie happy to see him, Carrie deadly silent. Before he could say anything she hissed "don't you dare that" and they went home in silence, only Frannie telling about her day and asking him if they could go to the zoo on Saturday. He suggested to check the weather first and didn't know what else to say.

When they arrived home, Carrie gave Frannie some milk and cookies, pretending he was not there at all. Then she took Frannie upstairs, suggesting she could watch an episode of Dora on Carrie's Ipad. Frannie looked puzzled, because normally TV and shows were strictly limited to weekends and never ever she had been allowed to watch a show in her room.

Quinn followed them upstairs, waiting for Carrie in the corridor while she helped Frannie to settle in her room. When she came out, he made a step forward, but she pushed him away.

"Carrie, god damn it, listen to me. I am not going on a black ops mission, I spoke to Dar and Saul and I..."

"I fucking don't care where you are going. How could you? After all what...after all that...I trusted you, I believed you, when you said, you wouldn't..." She was crying again and steamed into her bedroom, he followed her and tried to touch her shoulder. She turned around and slapped him in the face. 

"Carrie..."

"No, Quinn, no, I can't. I'm done, I fold, I give up. I...after all...I told you, just last night, and still you...this is worse than betrayal, this is..."

He felt like frozen. There were so many things to say, and he couldn't phrase any of them. She wouldn't listen to him, not in her current state. And again she was questioning everything. But he had to try.

"I am not going to a warzone, I am going to Germany, I..."

"How convenient, Astrid will be happy to see you. How did you phrase it 'what can I say, she likes me'?, say hello from me, I won't bug her this time." Her voice was breaking, but when he tried to touch her arm, her eyes were throwing out sparks and she hissed "don't you dare to touch me", the betrayal felt to deep. After all those month, after all those promises, it took just one visit to Dar and he went on the next best mission, like nothing had ever happened. Thinking of last night made her nearly collapse, it had been real, all that emotion, how he had hold her, comforted her, giving her the utmost pleasure. And she had told him about her biggest fear, him leaving her, that she would not survive that again. And now, just a day later, he was about to go... She was such a stupid girl, this was why she never had opened up, now she had him in her life and the unevitable betrayal felt like being stabbed, she felt like drowning. 

He stared down at her, arms folded in front of his chest. "That's what you think? That's what you really think?! That I am walking out of here just to throw me on the next woman?" 

She didn't say anything, just stared at him. He turned and left the room, knowing he was about to make a huge mistake but he needed a break, it just hurt too much. Not just that she wouldn't listen to him, but that she really thought he would...his vision was blurred and he heard white noise and he didn't notice the pile of his clothes she tossed down the stairs. He just needed air, needed to breathe.

So he left the house.

\-------------------

Carrie threw herself on the bed and couldn't stop sobbing. She noticed Frannie coming in and climbing the bed after a while, but she couldn't stop crying, holding her daughter in a tight embrace.

\-------------------

Quinn sat in his car, trying to breathe and to regain composure. A rational part of his brain knew that this wasn't as bad as it looked right now, that probably Carrie's illness, the shittiest timing, Dar's sudden appearance in the afternoon and his own unability to just force her to listen to him had led to this terrible outcome. He cursed himself for not being more aware that this was exactly what Carrie had told him, had warned him actually. She had told him, after the day at the farm (their 3rd date), when he came for dinner and they had been making out on the couch afterwards. He still heard her voice:   
"This is exactly what my condition is about. I want to be loved. And then I am not able to accept it. And if it goes wrong, or one of us is just having a bad day, it is just a self-fulfilling prophecy to me. And I'll push you away. Or worse. I know, it is hard. It is hard for me, too. But you need to understand that. Even if you keep saying it and your actions keep proving it, there will be times when I will desperatly looking for a proof that you don't mean it, because I am not worth it."  
And honestly he had thought he could take it, it had felt like a small prize back then compared with what he was about going to get. And up til today he hadn't known how right she had been, it was hard.   
But after the morning with Dar, the lingering shadows of the night before, he just was not at his best. And then she had triggered his worst fears, that he wasn't enough, that he wasn't good enough at loving her, she hadn't even listened to him.   
He had no idea what he should do now. There were about 36 hours left before he had to leave and he knew he had to talk to her before, but he knew the outcome would be similar if he'd go back in now.

He made a decision, got out of the car and walked to Maggie's house.

\---------------------

Maggie decided not to ring the doorbell but to directly go in with her keys. What Peter had told her an hour ago had worried her deeply. He had been sitting in her kitchen, voice very low and told her about Carrie's and his fight. She could see that he was fighting with himself, his own need for privacy, wanting to respect Carrie's privacy, but still in need for someone to share the burden. He had told her about his upcoming assignment, in Germany, and about his fear that Carrie might relapse. Although she had calmed him down - a relapse usually wasn't triggered by one single incident - she herself was worried. 

She found her sister in her bed, curled up around her child, both sleeping, Carrie's face still swollen and red. 

She woke her up gently, indicating silently to go downstairs.

\----------------------

"What are you doing here?"

"Peter. He came over and..."

"I fucking can't believe..."

"Carrie, listen to me before you get yourself in the stage of rage and fury. He needed someone to talk to, and he shared nothing with me, I don't already know."

"He is leaving." Carrie started crying again. "He is leaving and I can't go through this again. And I told him."

"Did you hear him out?"

"No."

"As far as I understand, they let him choose whether he is going or they make you go. And he signed a new contract, being office-based for afterwards."

Carrie raised her head and looked at her.

"Carrie, you should really go and hear him out. He was desperate when I saw him."

"I gave him a hard time."

"I bet, he wouldn't hold that against you for too long as long as you go after him. I'll wake Frannie and take her with me, she can have a pyjama party with the girls. And you, just go."

"What if doesn't want to see me?"

"You'll cross that bridge when you come to it. And I bet, he is waiting for you."

\--------------------------

Carrie drove towards his motel, not knowing what to say. She still felt terrible and she still was very angry. But she felt sorry for being in such a rage too. When he had said he was going on a mission she had switched on autopilot - and she didn't like her autopilot at all.

At his motel, she asked for his unit number ( strange, that I have never been here, she thought) and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He opened after a while, face pale, eyes red-rimmed, silent.

They were both staring at each other, neither of them knowing what to do next. 

"I couldn't stand another letter, so I came to hear it" she finally said.

He said nothing for a while but finally cleared the threshold so she could walk in.

They were standing in the small aisle connecting the door area with the actual room, a small pantry on the left side. He leant against the wall, to far down the spiral to make a beginning. 

"Is there anything you wanna tell me?" she finally asked because one of them had to start.

It was this aura of perfect indifference which let something in him snap.


	28. Quinn's monologue

"You wanna fight, wanna blame me, scream? Go for it. I can take it. But let me ask you just one question: You think that's easy for me? You really think that? That I walk out like nothing ever happened? You really think I am that man?" He could hear the anger and hurt in his own voice but couldn't help it. He knew if he wouldn't stop now he probably would go to places long locked up but he couldn't help that too. He felt a boiling flood raising quickly and there was no way stopping the gates from opening.  
"I went there today to get out. And in a way I failed. I know that. And part of me understands why you feel betrayed. And it was the shittiest timing - again. But let me tell you one thing: When I lost my parents, I was alone. No Aunt Maggie around. I was seven and I was alone. I was in eight foster homes before I turned 14. I got abused in two of them, learnt to steal and provide a steady source of income in another one, I simply was a source of income for most of the families, as they were paid for taking me in, I slept on a filthy blanket in the cellar in one of these so-calles homes, in another one I was only allowed to eat the leftovers of the family after they had finished their meal. I ran away from family eight when I was 14, lived on the street for a year, before Dar tracked me again and provided me with a room to sleep, money to buy food and clothes, sent me to tutorials. He wasn't a father to me, there wasn't even emotion, I know that now, but after eight fucking years someone cared and didn't expect sex, money or anything else in instant return but gave me respect, treated me with dignity. He planted the idea of joining the CIA in my head and of course I know now that I was an easy target. Of course it doesn't get more pathetic than that: orphaned boy longing for someone to care found by his father's friend, gets trained to be in his father's footsteps. I fucking know that. But there was nothing else. Either that or go back on the street. I wanted to be like my father, I wanted to live for a purpose, and I wanted to proof I am worth it. I had no other options, no other role models, just a father who died on a mission and a mother who chose death over being with her child. So I went back to school and joined the military and then the CIA as soon as possible, for a single purpose: to be like my father, to proof I am worth it. That I can do some good. And Dar was along all the way, never the most supportive, never one for moral crises, never one for an emotional bind, but he paid for everything I needed before I had my own money, he smoothed some corners when I entered the CIA and then, when he was the head of the group, he took me in as the youngest member with the worst educational background the CIA had ever seen. And this is all I did for 15 fucking years. I went on mission after mission, I was a tool, I was a weapon, I was easy to play, because my motivation was so simple but yet engraved into my bones: I needed a purpose and I wanted to proof I am worth it. What wasn't part of that experience: I never learnt to grieve, I never learnt to care, let alone to love or to deal with my loss and anger. Quite the other way around: My eternal anger, nourished over years, and my inability to feel made me the most valuable member of the group, because I didn't care for nothing and anybody. Remember, I am the father who walked away from his unborn child without hesitation. That was me. 

And then I met you. And everything changed. And you know that. And I am not going to recall every station of our way. You know it. You were fucking there. But I never said I love you to anyone else, I never spend the night snuggled up in bed and wrapped around with someone else, I never hold someone else in a bathtub to make a bad dream go away, I never made breakfast for someone else, I never visited someone else in a hospital, I never watched anybody's sleep before, I never felt so protective, I never made love to anybody else, I only fucked left, right and centre, never any emotions involved. I never cried before I met you. I spoke to nobody about my parents. I would die for you, because my life is nothing without you and Frannie. I know that I often fail, that I am often not good enough but I will never stop trying, because for me, what we have means the world. And I thought we were doing good. For the first time I saw a life ahead of me, beyond the fucking darkness which got me for so long. A normal life. I could picture myself getting old with you, see Frannie grow up, maybe another child, our child, things normal people do. And for the first time I felt confidence. That there is someone to love me, unconditionally. Someone who wants to be with me, someone for me to love. Just me.

But I can't erase the 33 years before. And I can't erase Dar's influence on me. For 25 years he has been having me like a puppet on a string. And I was determined to cut this bond when I went there today, I really thought I could do it. Even after last night when I saw you still don't trust me enough to talk to me about your dreams, I still was willing to push that thought aside and to believe in us. And I needed you in the morning, just one single word of reassurance, that I am doing the right thing, that you still believe in me, or a hug or anything. But you didn't. And I know I didn't ask for it and I know I should have. But I still was determined to cut that life once and for all. And I was hoping for Saul to help me, and in a way he probably did. But I know they played me. And of course I hate that. But I consider it a small price to pay after all that we've been through. If Dar needs to pull my strings one last time, he shall have it. But having to face the decision again - that it's either you or me going there, I would always make the same decision again. I go and it is my last mission, I even signed a new contract today as analyst in Saul's team, so when I am back I am finally out. For what it's still worth it."


	29. The after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second half of the chapter contains smut. Just saying.

He let a deep sigh and suddenly felt very tired. Through his whole speech she hadn't said anything, hadn't moved, nothing. He walked the few steps over to the bed, sat down and buried his face in his hands, elbows on his knees. There was nothing more to say. The silence in the room was dense.

Carrie's mind was spinning from all kinds of conflicting thoughts and emotions and she desperatly needed a break, some time to regroup. Some fresh air. A drink maybe. Anything. But she knew this was not the time for a break, let alone a drink. She knew she had gone too far, and she was desperate to see her illness' ugly face after months of stability again. He had said he could take it, that her illness didn't scare him, but now she was not so sure anymore. But she would try to fight against relapsing, this time she would. Besides all the raw emotions she still had a very rational brain (and a very rational sister, who's very voice she could hear now, telling her not to mess this one up) and she knew this was up to her now, he was done fighting. She saw his shoulders trembling and it broke her heart. She briefly thought about the morning, the parting in the parking lot and it was true, she had failed him there. Only, she hadn't even noticed and it hadn't been her intention. She just had been so fucking tired. And afraid of the outcome of his conversation with Dar, but now, she thought, maybe I just should have said that. Would have been better than nothing.

Finally she spoke. "I came to hear you out. And I came to apologize." Her voice was weak and brittle. He didn't react and didn't look at her. She moved over to the bed and set next to him, feeling her chin quivering and tears on her cheeks. She reached out for his hand, touching it lightly with the tip of her fingers. He lowered that hand down to his lap and turned his head towards her. She could see the tears in his eyes. "Carrie..."he breathed.

She placed her hand over his hand in his lap but he pulled away. She froze, unable to move or to talk. 

But then he had her. Suddenly she was in his arms, head against his chest, so tight she nearly couldn't breathe. And yet it was the only thing preventing her from falling apart. She felt him sobbing and she cried probably as well. "I can't loose you, Quinn, please tell me, I won't loose you again."

"You won't, I promise. I won't ever leave you, even if you try to make me." His voice was low and hoarse.

They sat for a long while, not moving, not talking. Eventually the tears had stopped and dried. Carrie thought, she could sit like this forever, hearing his heartbeat, smelling him, feeling his warmth, the world locked outside, just the two of them and nothing else. She realized, he'd be gone in less than two days and felt tears welling up again.

"I'll be back before you know it" he said, like he had read her mind. "But can we talk now? No rant and rave, no screaming, just talking and listening? Cause I need to talk to you. I need you."

She nodded. And he told her, about his conversation with Dar and Saul, about the offer they had made him, about how he had to make a decision right on the spot, about the mission and finally about how lost and alone he had felt this morning in the parking lot. And she listened, she did not interrupt him, she did not cry, only when he mentioned feeling disconnected in the morning, she moved closer into him, feeling a stab of guilt. He admitted that he knew the timing was crap, but again, when had their timing ever been good? 

"But Carrie, as much as I don't want to go away from you, this is it. It is Dar's last order. When I am back, I'll start working with Saul, constantly, I have it even in writing. And I can't promise you there won't be any work-related trips but no black ops missions any more, never. You have any idea, how that feels? But I need to go back to work, I can't just do nothing. I need a purpose. Like you. You like your work. Allow me to like mine too."

"I know and I guess I just need to get used to it. I am just so fucking scared to loose you, again. That you walk out and don't come back. And this is how it works, a strong emotion can overrun my whole system, push me beyond my mood stabilizers, and it can trigger an episode. I know it is scary but you need to know and understand that. And I get it when you are scared too, because it is scary. There is nothing romantic in that."

"You think, you are there yet?" His voice was controlled and even, but she knew it was sheer force of will. And he knew, he wouldn't leave if she was relapsing.

"No, I don't think so. I wouldn't be able sitting here with you and talk it out then. But I promise I'll see my doctor on monday and will talk it through, maybe I'll need to adjust my meds for the time being. And I'll tell Maggie and ask her to check on me every day while you are gone." That sounded resonable but he still hated it, especially because he did that to her. He said nothing, because he didn't want to sound patronizing about her precautions and wasn't sure how to avoid that. 

"Quinn, this is just who I am, and we both have to live with it. I have been much worse, an extra dose of meds isn't a big deal. I am still far lower in my dosage than the years before, it's ok. This is not your fault, this is just my illness. It will never go away, you have to understand that. And even if I am angry with you or we fight and that triggers it, it is my illness, not you. If I were a normal, healthy person, I would have been sad, disappointed, angry, I would have yelled, threatened or ranted - probably all of that - but it wouldn't start that downward spiral."

"I guess I still need to learn that, but I will keep trying. And Carrie, it means a lot to me that you came after me. I hadn't expect that, to be honest. But you know that I wouldn't have left this time without trying to talk to you? That I just needed a break and would have come back, either tonight or tomorrow, to talk it out? You know that, do you?"

"First, I didn't think about it, I just felt you were gone and I was going to loose you. But then, I guess, I kind of knew. But before I could realize, Maggie came round and gave me kind of a thorough dressing down. And then I knew what I had to do."

"We really do make a pair, you and me, don't we? Your shit and my shit kind of match."

She smiled and suddenly realized she was hungry, the sandwich in the morning being the only meal she had today. 

"What would you like to do until you leave? I mean, is there any kind of preparation you need to do or is it just a normal weekend?"

He could think of numerous ways to spend the hours until his departure but she was obviously suggesting something else.

"I don't need to do any preparations, just pack some clothes and be at the airport Sunday morning. Where is Frannie by the way?"

"With Maggie, sleeping over."

"Can we go to the zoo tomorrow? She asked me in the car. And it is the first time she asked me, not you, for an acitivity." She was glad that her face was still hidden on his chest because she had tears in her eyes again, he was right and she hadn't even noticed it. "And I would like to spend both evenings with you, if you want that too, that is."

"Of course I do, both, zoo and evenings. But can we go home? Here, it's kind of...depressing. Sorry."

"No offence taken, it is kind of depressing. And, I have no food and I am getting hungry. Just let me pack, and we'll stop for some take-away on the way."

They left soon afterwards, getting indian food on the way and eating it right out of the containers on the couch, they both were to tired to set the table and pretend this being a normal dinner.

When she put the empty containers in the kitchen, he wondered if she felt the elephant in the room too or if he was maybe overcautious. But for a couple being usually so engaged with the physical pleasures of their relationship, he felt it was kind of strange that they hadn't even kissed since their fight. Besides the tight embrace while sitting on the bed there hadn't been any physical contact. Usually the had a lot of make-up sex (well, usually they had a lot of sex anyway) after their quarrels about minor strains of everyday life and this had been the first really bad fight they ever had. And he was yearning for her and wanted, needed to be close to her. But today he had told her things he had never revealed to anybody before and he was afraid now that this might change things between them. 

Well, there was only one way to find out.

He got up and tuned in some music, jazz of course, and dosed the lights and it felt somehow strange, although it had happened many times before and then it had never felt strange. Sometimes, when she was putting Frannie to bed, he had been eagerly waiting for her, longing to be with her, but it had never felt strange to dose the lights. But now, it was like displaying his expectations too obviously. But when she came back from the kitchen, she looked perfectly normal. Tired and exhausted, but given the bad night she had had and the hell of a day which lay behind them, that was nothing unusual. She was still in her work clothes, and honestly her blouse looked more than a bit crumpled but he doubted that his appearance was much better. And if he had a saying in the upcoming events for tonight, there wouldn't be too much clothes involved anyway.

He met her halfway, pulling her into an embrace and gently manoevering her towards the couch. He let himself fall into the cushions and pulled her on his lap, starting to kiss her neck just below her earlobe. She let out a soft sigh which he had learnt to read as sign of encouraging approval over the last weeks. He took her face into his hands and softly kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her brow, before finally putting his lips on hers, soft and tender. She had been awaiting him, and she kissed him back, very slowly, her tongue exploring his, answering his longing and her hands were at the back of his nape, pulling him in closer. She had leant back into the support of the backrest while they were kissing and he felt her hands unbuttoning his shirt. He let his lips wander down her neck, his tongue trailing her carotid artery, feeling her elevated pulse. When her reached her collarbone, he started to unbutton her blouse, moaning her name. Soon, both shirts were in a pile on the floor. He felt the urging need to be with her, inside her, to fill her with himself, but hold himself back. Just a bit longer. When he unclasped her bra and started to lick and suck her nipples, she groaned and reached down to unbuckle his belt and soon pushed his pants down. He briefly wondered how she still could manage the coordination this needed but when she wiggled herself out of her pants, followed by her panties, he was done thinking, all he could do was admiring her soft curves, drinking her in and yearning for her so deeply that it hurt. 

She slipped off the couch down to the floor, kneeling in front of him, looking up to his face. Their eyes locked and she slowly moved her hands upwards on his thighs towards his hips. "I am so sorry" she whispered, and bent over his lap. He could feel her tongue tracing the length of his hardon, before she circled the head of it with her tongue and then started sucking and pulling every inch of him. His head rolled back on the backrest of the couch, while his hands were caressing her shoulders and fondling her breasts. She was taking her time, being very slow with him, giving him time to savour every second of it, to relish all the sensations. Only when she felt his breathe acclerating and his abdominal muscles vibrating, she was getting faster and added grazing teeths, knowing this would make it impossible for him to hold back any longer. And of course she was right, he exploded inside her soft and warm mouth just seconds later, crying her name as he climaxed, clenching his fingers into her shoulders. She was on his lap, straddeling him, before he was able to regain any composure, melting into him and kissing him hard. "Oh god, Carrie" he managed to groan but she was done taking it slow now. "Fuck me, Quinn, please fuck me now, I need to feel you, I need you to fill me." He pushed her back to lay on her back, introducing two of his fingers into her wetness and sucking her nipples. She immediatly arched her hips, pushing herself closer to him and started thrusting her hips against his hand. He sucked hard on her nipple and she cried "yes, please, Quinn" and when he bit her, she groaned and he could feel the dripping wetness on his palm. She was so ready for him, he thought with tremendous arousal and joy. He would please her now, give her exactly what she was asking for. He pulled his fingers out of her, and entered her immediatly with one hard stroke. She slammed her heels into his buttocks and whimpered "Do me now, please, I need you." He buried himself deeper and deeper into her with each stroke. "Look at me" he commanded "I wanna see you, cause you are mine. I possess you and will never let you go. And I am yours. I am all yours." She looked right into his eyes and he knew it would just take several more thrusts but the love he saw in her eyes was all he ever wanted and when he felt her clenching and tighten around him, he was confident, whatever life would throw at them, they would handle it. He managed to extend her orgasm with a few more hard thrusts and it filled him with utmost pleasure to watch her while she was climaxing, and then he came again, spilled himself into her and finally collapsed on her chest. With his last bit of consciousness he managed to turn around and to shift her, so he was beneath her, holding her laying sprawled out on him now. Minutes passed. "Oh god, Quinn, that was..." she finally said but didn't find a way to finish the sentence. "Yes, it was" he answered as it didn't matter.

They spent the afterglow on the couch, when he felt her getting cold, he pulled a blanket over them and his hands laid sleepily on her ass and her back.

"Maybe we should fight every now and then, just for the great make up-sex?" she offered after a while. "Uhm, maybe we could skip the fighting and go directly to the make up-sex without a fight?" he suggested. "Yeah, that's even better" she whispered.

"Can I ask you something?"

"As long as you don't ask for more sex right now, whatever you want." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"What I told you today, will that change anything between us? I mean, will that change your opinion of me?" 

She knew immediatly this was important, hearing a strain of insecurity in his voice, so she chose her words carefully, hoping to say the right things.

"I won't pretend, it doesn't matter. Because it does, to me. Because you trusted me enough to tell me. And that means a lot to me, even if it happened because you were angry. And it would be a lie if I said, I don't care about what your story is. Because I do care and I wish I could turn back time and make it easier for you, because you deserved none of this. But as for your question, if it changes anything between us, the answer is no. No, it doesn't change anything. Because you are still the same man, maybe I can understand a few things better now, but it doesn't change anything."

"Not even the part about the..." he gulped and she raised her head to look at him "...the foster families?" he finished but she knew what he had been heading for. But there was no need to make him talk about it again. "No, that part doesn't change anything." She stretched her back to reach his mouth and kissed him softly. But he wasn't done yet. "Can we agree then to not talk about those years again? Now as you know...and there is not much more I'd like to recall from those years." She curled up on his chest again, but cupped his cheek with one hand. "We can agree on that. But you know, if that changes one day, and you wanna talk about it, I am here."  
"Yeah, I know." She felt his arms tightening around her and soon afterwards they went to bed.


	30. Departure

Maggie was relieved beyond words when her sister and Quinn appeared on her doorstep the next morning, apparently well rested and peaceful. But she was stunned when Carrie talked openly and frankly in Peter's presence about her fear of relapsing, about his upcoming business trip (interesting choice of words, Maggie thought), her plan to see her doctor the next morning and finally asked her to check up on her once a day. Peter didn't say anything throughout the conversation, though he seemed very concerned, but Maggie just thought that even in her wildest dreams she would never have imagined Carrie handling her condition that concious and thoughtful. We should pay him to stick around, she briefly thought and shot him a half-smile. She had the strange feeling, he could read her mind though, because he hid a genuine smile behind his coffee mug.

They spent the day at the zoo, and Frannie was over the moon. Quinn told her he had once seen a hippo and some crocodiles in Somalia and her eyes widened with pure admiration. Carrie briefly wondered about the rest of his stint there, clearly he hadn't been there to study the flora and fauna, but she decided to let it go. They just had too much fun and it was so good to spend a normal, relaxed day like any other...family, she thought. That's what it felt like, a family. She looked over Frannie's head towards him and caught his gaze as he was just looking towards her, and he smiled and she briefly thought about him mentioning getting old together yesterday, in the better part of his monologue. They had dinner at a diner on the way back and Quinn told Franny he would be gone some time, travelling to Germany. "But you'll be back?" she asked. "I will" he promised her "and then I'll take my girls to the zoo again." She giggled, then turned to Carrie. "Mummy, can we watch the planes tomorrow? Like with Uncle Bill?" Carrie hesitated for a tiny second but then thought, what the hell. "Sure, we can drop Peter at the aiport and then watch his plane leave from the terrace. But only if you share a massive icecream sundae with you mommy afterwards." Frannie giggled again and Quinn placed his hand above Carrie's on the table. 

When Frannie was in bed, they settled in the living room with a bottle of wine and were talking about his upcoming trip. Carrie told him about her work at the Düring Foundation and Otto's vast knowledge of middle eastern conflicts and german inner and external politics, going along with him being excellent connected with government-related institutions in Germany.

"If you're looking for a non agency or BND source of information he is definetly a person you should turn too."

"You trust him?"

She weighed her answer carefully, but honestly, it was a yes. He had never failed her, she professionally admired him profundly and she owed him big for helping her to get Frannie out of Germany last year.

"You don't think it would be awkward for Jonas to bump into me?"

"I guess, it would, but he doesn't work there anymore. He quit shortly after...I left Germany and is working for Amnesty International now. He emailed me last autumn." And with that she dropped that topic and started to tell him about how she had met Allison, now one of the most high-ranked females within the CIA.

"You know, the strange thing is, when I met her in Bagdad, we were both still quite young and green, honestly, and she already seemed so tired, like she was already full of it and ready to leave. Our paths never really crossed again until Berlin but when she left Bagdad, I'd bet a year's salary she would be out within two years. And now she is still there, apparently doing an amazing job, Saul is full of appreciation for her, even Dar is not talking shit about her behind her back, but I still felt that irritation when I saw her, that she...wants to be out. Which is nothing unusual, you and I had it too...well, maybe just forget about it."

Quinn enjoyed their conversation a lot, he had always liked working with Carrie. Her brain was processing hints and clues differently from his, and even if he quite often hadn't shared her decision making, he always had admired how sharply her brain worked and clicked. And it had been quite some time since he had worked and honestly, as much as he wanted to stay, he was excited to go back into an operation, especially in his new role.

"Carrie, there is something, we have to talk about. You know as well as I do that we both have left Germany with...a score to settle. I still believe, it is a relativly safe mission, given my new role, and compared to...other things I've done. But they chose me because I was one of two people someone wanted to get rid of last year and we never learnt who that was. So if I go there to turn some stones, to rattle some cages with my presence..."

"You are placed out there as bait and I hate it."

"If my presence rattles some cages and forces something to happen, this will proof the mole's existence within the Berlin station. And don't call me bait, I am no mealworm on a fishing rod. But what I am heading at, I know this could be dangerous. It won't, this is why I'll have two members of my former team with me, sleeping at my bedside and nobody will be after me within the station as I am there as normal agent this time, not crawling around in dark alleys and jihadists hide-outs this time, thank god. But this only works if the possible mole doesn't know about my relationship with you and doesn't know why I am really there. I have to play blissfully ignorant when it comes to you. And, I wouldn't want to give whoever it is the idea that you still could be a thread for him. I'll be there to do research with the BND on sleeper cells in Germany."

"Spit it out, Quinn."

"You know."

She sighed. "Yeah, no communication, no phone calls, no emails, in case of an emergency I can call Saul but not you."

He cradled her in his arms. "I hate this as much as you. But better safe then sorry. And I promise, I will find a way to get in touch with you every now and then. And I'll hurry to be back quickly."

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure."

"Are you going to see Astrid?" 

The tone of her voice was even, and for a moment he was about to believe it was just a casual question, but then it hit him - Carrie was testing the water here, she was jealous. He was careful now, Friday's blow out still fresh in his mind, although he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed the thought of her feeling possessive over him. Very alpha-male, but still. But he knew this was not the time for jokes, because behind her question he could hear her insecurity.

"Well, I'll probably have to work with her. And we've always been friends so I guess it would just be fair to make a clean table and tell her...things have changed. And if you're ok with that and she still would want it with now clearly different .., circumstances, I guess, I would like to have lunch or dinner with her. You know, black ops guys are not the most entertaining company, so I guess I can't rely on Rob and Liam for some chitchat. You're ok with that?"

"I guess, I should..." she whispered but he could hear the hesitation in her voice.

He pulled her closer. "She knows since Islamabad how I feel about you. She used to call you 'my girlfriend' there. And she knows I never felt the same for her. So I guess she won't be surprised. And you know, I would never..."

She quickly covered his mouth with her's, kissing him and muttering "I know, no need to say it."

They stopped talking business soon and given the fact it was their last night for quite a while settled in bed quite early, indulging and enjoying each other. She shed some tears in his arms and told him she'd rather do it now than at the airport the next day.

"You know, I never had someone bringing me to the airport. It feels so fucking good."

"Well, thank Frannie."

"But you could have said no."

"I could. But you know, I never had someone to kiss goodbye at the airport and now I have and that feels fucking good too."

"Can we do some of the good bye kissing now? I somehow think I get better kisses here in the dark as tomorrow in the departure hall."

"You bet..."

And with that, they were done talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all those of you who took time to read and comment, your comments are always welcome and keep me going.


	31. Germany, Part I

Carrie and Frannie had indeed come with him to the airport, credit where it's due, he knew it had been quite a step for her. She had kissed him good-bye in the morning in bed (well, actually more than kisses), saying she couldn't stand Saul witnessing her tears. He understood, Carrie's and Saul's relationship was still difficult and Carrie had always liked to keep private life private. And he had always preferred it that way too, just recently with her he felt he wouldn't mind the whole world to see.

Now he was comfortably settled in his business class seat, a tumbler with single malt in his hand and listening to Saul's updated briefing about the situation in Berlin. There was some evidence that the Russians had been behind the kill order, but the picture was all but clear. But some high rank SVR agent who had been based in Germany until last summer and then suddenly disappeared right after Carrie's disappearance was supposed to be back in Germany this week, at least that's what intel said, and so there was hope he might contact the mole. On the other hand, the mole might contact his contact if Peter suddenly was back. Quinn briefly thought about Carrie calling him bait, she hadn't been that wrong.

He would meet Rob and Liam in Berlin, they'd stay in the same hotel but Quinn insisted on changing hotels every other day and to do the booking via Langley not to use the rooms the Berlin office had bokked for them, he wasn't willing to take any risks here. He even asked for booking two hotels for each night and only he, Rob and Liam would know in which respective one they'd stay. His cover was to work with the BND and two CIA analysts on intel about sleepers, given the fact that he would be part of that unit in Saul's team stateside soon. So he would indeed be working with Astrid, a prospect he was both looking forward to and finding strange. 

His first days in Berlin were going well, more than well. He actually enjoyed being back in the swing, discussing intel, going through information, discussing theories and following hints and clues. Like in Islamabad, as fucked up that operation had been over all, he enjoyed being part of a larger team and not to have to go dark and spend days and weeks and months alone. 

He hadn't seen Rob since they had lost their last stand near Aleppo and Rob surprised him the first evening in the hotel with a bottle of whiskey and a small parcel, containing his Glock, ammo and a new holster.

"Thought, you might want it back. Took it with me from Syria and cleaned it from the fucking desert sand. It's as good as new. I thought, I'd lost you there, asshole, I was pretty sure you wouldn't come out there again in one piece. It's good to see you."

They had a couple of whiskeys together and played two rounds of chess, both not able to talk more about their mutual past. But Quinn was ok with that, they never had talked much, but he could think of nobody more reliable to have his back when things were getting tense. He sensed Rob feeling uncomfortable for not being able to save him in Syria last year but they had been outnumbered and there hadn't been a chance and so he told him that during the second round of chess. Rob carefully studied the play, not making eyecontact, but pouring another whiskey and somehow his shoulders were less tense now.

He saw Astrid on his second day in the office, she was waiting for him in the hallway around lunchtime, sleek, slender, severe as always, having a hint of a smile around the corners of her mouth. He felt genuinly pleased to see her, but - he had expected that, but was really relieved to experience it in reality now - the excitement he had usually felt when he had met her again over the last years was completely gone. Still, he felt friendship for her, always had. He greeted her with a quick hug.

"Peter, rumors said you were around."

"Rumors were right, though technically you can't call them rumors any more, now as they turned out to be reality, I guess."

She smiled. "I guess, it means something that you are here but neither saw me yet nor have broken into my appartement or tailed me in the dark. And I guess I know what it means. But I'd still like to meet you for dinner and catch up."

He looked at her, wondering how women did this, just one sentence, brilliant analysis, all cards on the table, all pretense gone. Carrie and Astrid were a good match, he briefly thought, they both can do this. Well, maybe in another life they'd make friends, certainly not in this universe.

"You're right, with everything, so tonight? I'll meet you outside at 7?" There was no reason to sugar-coat it.

They went to a busy vietnamese restaurant in Mitte, with an open kitchen with cooks preparing meals at an amazing speed. He knew she had chosen this for him, knowing about his preferance for all kinds of asian food. He couldn't see Rob or Liam but knew they must be somewhere close and briefly chuckled at the thought of how much Rob hated all kinds of more elaborated cuisine than a steak or pizza, so this would clearly not be a place of his choice.

They sat down at a small table at the window, obviously she had made a reservation, but wasn't commenting on it. So much about rumors saying just today I am here, he thought. They didn't talk until they had ordered and the drinks arrived. 

"Well, then...you are looking good. What happened to you since last summer?" She studied him and found that the dark grimness he usually carried had vanished, although the lines around his eyes were deeper than ever before. But he was much less tense, less on-guard, he looked happy, she thought, with a jolt of bitterness.

He indeed had considered several times over the last days what to tell her when he met her. Foreseeing the question didn't require to much spycraft. He had come to the conclusion that he wasn't ready for anyone except Carrie and the absolute necessary people like Dar, Saul and his therapists to know about Syria. But Astrid would be one of the very few people, if probably not the only one, he would be honest with about his relationship with Carrie. He leant back and smiled and she thought that this was probably the most genuine and happy smile she'd ever seen on him.

"Carrie happened. And I'm finally out."

"Wow. I have to say, I kind of expected the first, but I never saw the second actually happening."

"It probably wouldn't without the first." He realized how true this was. Without Carrie he would never haver mustered the strength to withdraw himself from his former life. And it felt good to say it loud.

"But it's true. I left...my former workline...and joined a new team, usually office-based in Langley, this here is just a short loop-way to get some more experience in my new field, islamic sleeper cells that is, and to...close some open debth."

"I am aware of the later one. Adler was called for legal and administrative cooperation in case things get...tense. But I am thrilled about you finally being out. Cheers to that." And she raised her glass to toast him.

"But about you and Carrie, not that it wasn't a long time coming, last thing I knew was you having a septic gunwound and she being threatened by an unknown force and wearing a very...unfortunate...hairstyle."

He chuckled at the memorization of Carrie's wig. "Yeah, that was awful, but you know, content counts. And she's not wearing it any more. But as for your question, I can't answer it in detail, but what I can tell you, but right now only you, is we are together since christmas." Which was true, at least in a way, he thought, and the details are just Carrie's and mine.

"And she is making you happy." That was a true Astrid, she managed the sentence to be a question, statement and allegation at the same time, her face perfectly neutral.

He decides to go for the question first. "Yes, happier than I ever thought I could be, happier than I ever thought I deserved."

"Sounds like you'll propose soon." He heard the hint of bitterness and disappointment but foremost he heard what she was saying. And realized with a certain shock that she had hit a nerve here. That would indeed happen sooner or later. 

"You know me well. Listen, Astrid, I always appreciated what we had" he decided for the blunt approach, she deserved that after years of friendship "you were never anything but wonderful, and I'd be very lucky if I still were allowed to call you my friend, but some things are just over now. I told you about her in Islamabad and now I am really into something good with her, and I wouldn't risk that for anything, never. So, what I am saying is, I will always be your friend, I will never lie to you, and I never did, I never pretended anything I didn't feel, but I will never cheat on Carrie or betray her, so this part of our friendship is over. I am truely sorry if you...were hoping for something else which I never could give you...and I am sorry if this is obnoxious now and I am completly wrong and you weren't...holy fuck...you get what I wanna say?"

She couldn't help it but found is rambling rather sweet. It was impressive to see his transformation, how this contained man opened up and held a intense presentation of his obviously true and deep feelings for Carrie, but then, the part about ending the "with benefits"-part of their friendship without wanting to end their actual friendship...she decided to release him, she had known for a long time that there was no hope and decided that she should come to terms with it now.

"I get what you wanna say, I am still your friend and your Carrie is a very lucky girl. Let's eat before it's getting cold."

When Quinn came back to his hotel room that night, he was really and truely tired, jet lag and a full day taking its toll. Still he couldn't sleep but missed Carrie. Talking about her with Astrid had felt good, like a warm reassuring ball of positive energy in his stomache, and he realized it had been the first time that he actually had spoken about her and their relationship, deciding that Dar, his shrink and Maggie didn't count for different reasons. He was longing to call her and talk to her, wanted to know how she was doing, and found it difficult to sleep without her. And the longer he thought about her, the more difficult it got, because some other images were sneaking into his brain, less romantic, more explicit. He was just toying with the idea to revisit some of his favourite fantasies and memories, actually his hand was already on its way, when he heard Rob rumpling at the connecting door, being in his room within seconds.

For fuck's sake, he sweared silently. No wonder I never had a chance to develop a serious love interest while travelling the world with him.

"If we at least had won that war, it had spared us the food. Tastes like tooth paste, mint leaves everywhere" Rob muttered while entering the room.

Quinn raised a quizzical eyebrow, Rob had never been one for political correctness.

"Oh, asshole, you are already ready for the night, need to get used to the idea of yours needing your beauty sleep. I was thinking chess."

Why not, Quinn thought, and raised again.

\---------------------------------

He met Otto Düring for the first time the next day. Saul took him for a meeting with Carrie's former boss to Düring's club. Quinn had been curious to meet the philantroph Carrie spoke so highly about, knowing she wasn't easy to impress.

And, he had to admit, he was impressed too. Düring was a cultivated, educated man in his early fifties, apparently had travelled the world and was using his vast fortune with purpose. His views and opinions on the conflicts in the world and the roles poverty, inequity and religious fanatism played were well-considered, nothing but profund and to the point. Quinn enjoyed the conversation a lot and was very surprised when Düring leant discreetly over the table while Saul was using the bathroom. "I guess, you and I have a ... mutual friend. Meet me for dinner, I'd like to catch up...without Mr. Berenson. Tomorrow night, 8 pm, at the Regent Hotel at Gendarmenmarkt, I have a private dining room there. Ah, Mr. Berenson, Saul, I was just saying to our young friend here, that he really should take the time to visit the pergamon museum, their collection of islamic art is stunning, let alone the pieces from Syria, early 16th century. Deepest middle age here, a civilisation in full bloom there."

Quinn was surprised, but made a mental note about both, secret dinner tomorrow, museum at the weekend, why not?

This night back in the next hotel, he had made sure not to have a connecting door with Rob, but still had a glass with him and a round of chess (Rob muttered something about he owed him, because doing surveillance on him was the most boring mission he ever had had) but then, finally some really needed privacy and a very sweat dream.

\---------------------------

Carrie's first days without him hadn't been going all well, but not as worse as expected either. She missed him a lot, she could feel a physical pain when thinking about him but her doctor's visit on Monday had been encouraging. They had agreed on not adjusting her meds because her psychatrist found it a welcome sign how much she suddenly cared for someone and didn't want her to damp her feelings down. They agreed on closely monitoring and Carrie promised to call her if she felt she needed more support. For the nightmares, she was less concerned than Quinn, telling her a Xanax every now and then was acceptable, especially now while she was alone at night, but it shouldn't become a habit, there was less potent stuff she could take. They agreed on trying when Quinn was back.

She told her to try to develop other techniques of coping, like taking a hot bath (Carrie felt herself flushing, even if there was no possibility for the psychatrist to figure out why), or taking 15 minutes before bedtime to focus and memorize happy, positive memories, kind of a positive self-fulfilling prophecy. Carrie had to admit when she tried, that for the first time in her life she had huge storage of positive, happy memories, Quinn's dating thing was really helpful here and even without that, she had an abundancy of memories to choose from, let alone those which had happened in this very bed...

But still she was longing to talk to him, to touch him and to turn around at night into his warmth. She was wondering about his first steps in his new professional role and briefly thought about calling Allison but then dropped it. He would hate it anyway, she knew he needed to proof himself and her that he was independent and successfull on his own.

Frannie and Maggie were a great help. They had dinner at Maggie's house now everyday and Frannie painted a pile of pictures for Quinn, with hippos and crocodiles around him.

He hadn't called her yet but she was giving her best to stay patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the first of the Berlin chapters, I guess there will be at least one, maybe two more. Obviously they are concentrating more on Quinn and his experiences there than on C/Q but I hope you still like them. It is kind of fun to do some handweaving with some of the characters from the Berlin set, especially Otto Düring and Rob. And, Quinn hasn't met Allison yet...More to come soon - as always, your comments are gladly appreciated.


	32. Germany, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is gathering important intel in Berlin, meets Otto Düring and finds a way to connect with Carrie...good thing, he's used to pull all-nighters, because he's having a long day.

He left the office earlier the next day, assuming a dinner with Düring at a two Michelin star restaurant would require more formal clothing than he brought here, so time for some shopping. He was in the mood and got some presents for Carrie and Frannie as well. After Rob's complain about last night's food he briefly checked the hotel's lobby and found a nice bar with a ok enough visual axis to the lobby and the restaurant's entrance. Rob and Liam couldn't join him in the private dining room of Düring anyway and he could imagine a snarky comment from Rob about being placed in a high end fish and seafood restaurant for surveillance, something like "I'll do fucking dying fish impressions myself, if you don't get a decent steak here within minutes". Plus he doubted that the agency's expenses policy would cover up class meals for surveillance teams, as generous as it might be, he had not much experience with it, neither tuna in a can nor syrian goat meat stew had been very pricey, and, he thought bitterly, Assad had never send an invoice for his couple of months' full board residential last year, not that the food had been that rich and nutritious...  
He grabbed himself a beer in the bar, to calm down, sitting at the dimly lit counter. Starting to muse about last fall, his hostage in Syria, was not a good sign, he really needed to talk to Carrie soon, hoping that this would put a stop to these darker thoughts. Last night he had had a nightmare, the first in weeks. God, he missed her. Tomorrow he decided, he would spent some hours going dark and covering his own tracks, get himself a burner phone and call her.

He was back at the Regent's at 7.30 pm, wanting to see whether Düring arrived alone. Rob and Liam had had some burgers on the way and had settled themselves at a table near the main lobby. Rob had briefly studied the restaurant's menue and prices, which was displayed at a colum in the hall and - right, inevitably - gave a comment which sounded like "fuck, I didn't know you wanna buy the place, thought you were going for dinner, should've known when I saw the all new and shiny suit, you're upscaling. But you do know that their tuna and your tuna cans come from the same fish though?"

Quinn decided to let it go, bought them another beer, and let them stew in their own grease.

Düring arrived alone, apparently a well known guest, and was immediatly greeted and guided towards the restaurant's entrance. Quinn made himself seen and Düring welcomed him cordially.

They spent an interesting evening. Düring was a pleasant host, choosing wine and food for them, asking a lot of questions about Quinn's opinions and experience in the middle east, telling himself about his recent tryings to set up aid projects for Jarmuk. Apparently he knew Quinn had spent long stretches of time in Syria and around because he asked a lot of questions about Quinn's opinion on Assad's regime, ISIS and the western countries coping stratgies. Quinn leant back.

"Without wanting to be obnoxious: What strategy? Tell me what the strategy is and I'll tell you if it's working. See, right there is the problem, because ISIS - they have a strategy. They're gathering right now in Raqqa by the tens of thousands, hidden in the civilian population, cleaning their weapons and they know exactly why they're there. I've seen it with my very own eyes and I can tell you, every day, week, months of western restraint will make it only worse. Paris, Istanbul, a million refugees in Germany alone in 2015...none of this will just go away. Development aid, humanitarian aid is important and what you are aiming at is good but my personal opinion is, there needs to be a huge military mission as well. Otherwise this will be a hydra, regrowing multiple new heads for every single one taken. And it's not just ISIS, the question what should happen with Assad is still unanswered. And whereas everybody focusses on the threats of ISIS, Assad's crimes like in Ghouta or the disappearence of thousands in his torture cellars shouldn't be forgotten. He won't be a solution either, even if everybody is toying with the idea in the recent months. See, as I see it, neither the US nor the european countries would like to go in there and get their hands really dirty, so we wait, and wait. America is kind of waiting for the EU to take care of it, neglecting its role in the history of conflicts in the region, and the EU is facing its pivotal question: will it survive, will members still stand to its values when 2016 is another year with millions of refugees at your borders? And believe me, the people are already on their way up north, desperate, because they have nothing left, all hope is gone."

Otto could see the - in other respects so contained - man's rage, although it was well controlled and found it interesting. He hadn't met many Americans with a balanced and educated opinion about the conflicts in the middle east and in that prospect his guest seemed to be a good match with Carrie. He wondered whether there was some romantic involvement, he hadn't heard from Carrie since she had left Germany head over heels, only knew from Jonas that she'd left him, but they never had been a good match in his opinion anyway.

He valued Jonas highly, both as friend and as lawyer, but your either born with wings or not, and in his regard Jonas was clearly not. Whereas Carrie...

"How is Carrie doing?" he changed the topic of their conversation so suddenly that Quinn had to take a deep sip of his wine to keep his composure. He had still no idea why Otto had invited him for this dinner and even if Carrie said she trusted him, he was still on-guard. But denying that question he knew wouldn't be the right approach, given what Otto knew about last summer's events. 

"Quite well, actually. She lives with her daughter and they settled back in well." No lie, but not the full picture.

Otto studied him a long time, finally getting a large envelope out of his bag, carefully placing it on the table. 

"Mr. Quinn, or may I call you Peter, I'm aware that my attempt to meet you without Saul might appear strange. But when Carrie's life had been at risk last summer, and given your involvement in those events...she told me bits and pieces, Jonas some other bits and pieces...and as far as I know the CIA never caught the traitor who released the documents nor followed the trails to those who wanted Carrie dead. I consider Carrie as a friend, and I'd be glad if she'd say the same about me, so I did some research on my own. My options are limited as I am not your agency but happenstance and some digging brought up something, I thought it might be...interesting. Maybe it's nothing, and then I'd be utterly embarrassed because what I am going to share with you is usually...not my style...but I thought, as Carrie's...ally...you should know." He slipped the envelope over the table towards Quinn. 

Quinn prepared his facial features to give nothing away, whatever he might see and opened the envelope, which contained a stack of photos, most of them clearly shot from a greater distance, classical hidden surveillance photographs. They all showed Saul, obviously here in Berlin, at least those which were taken outside. He was with a long-haired, sleek woman, the first pictures only showed her from behind, the next ones displayed her face. It was Allison Carr, station chief here in Berlin. Quinn knew better than to comment immediatly, so far nothing unusual, a high ranked CIA official visiting a foreign station would of course meet with the station chief, even go out for dinner, Carrie had been out with Lockhart a few times in Islamabad as well. But he expected more to come, otherwise Düring wouldn't have given him the photos. And yes, the next few shots were obviously taken in a restaurant, Saul holding Allison's hand in his on the table. Then, backseat of a taxi, kissing her, more than a friendly peck. Then, obviously a hotel room, the quality of the picture was bad now, but he could see it was Saul and the same longhaired woman, only half dressed against the wall. And then, the last two, in an obviously very expensive kitchen, maybe Allison's flat, he guessed, Allison naked on the counter, Saul between her knees. 

Quinn stared at the picture, having no idea where to look else and fighting against nausea. He raised his head and looked at Düring who silently gave him credit for his stoney look, giving nothing away.

"How did you get these?"

"In the beginning, just by happenstance. I was in a restaurant, attending a private function, and saw them at the bar when on my way out, clearly closer involved than just colleagues. Several weeks later, I saw them again, at an embassy function. They arrived apart, didn't talk all evening, but when I was on the way to my car, I saw him entering her car. That was when I decided it was worth a try and put two members of my security on his heels. The photos cover a time spam of nearly three months and four visits. See the shadow near the window in the last picture? My man says he didn't actually see anybody else but when he enlargened the photo he was pretty sure there must be someone behind the curtain. 

Quinn hadn't noticed it before, but now, as Düring pointed it out and even provided him a larger print-out he had to admit, it could be, just a shadow and a missing light reflection where one should be.

He felt a cold shiver down his spine. Saul....

He felt the urgent need to leave, right now, to have time to think. But instead he took another sip of wine, put the pictures in a neat stack and pushed them back in the envelope. "Thank you, Otto, that's interesting. But now, tell me more about the work you intend to set up for Jarmuk."

Düring admired the man's calmness and confidence and wondered what his role was within the CIA. 

They spoke another good hour, finished the delicious wine and parted after Otto had invited Quinn for a dinner party at his house a week later. Quinn pretended a bathroom visit and rushed out of the lobby five minutes later, without waiting for Rob and Liam. He needed fresh air. He paced up and down Gendarmenmarkt until the two others had caught up with him.

"Fish poisening?" Rob muttered. "Or what made you run?"

Quinn was not in the mood for bantering, but wanted, needed to be alone to think through what he just had learnt and Rob just had offered him a way out. "Yeah, maybe I am just not used to all this fancy food, should've sticked with the tuna from the can, that's at least pasteurized...I'll get down as soon as we are in our hotel." That would spare him another round of chess, he hopefully thought.

When they were back in the hotel, Quinn immediatly retreated to his room. Oh god, how much he wished he could just call Carrie. His earlier yearning for her had been completely personal, a man wanting to hear his lover's voice and needing her calming presence but now he wished to be able to discuss with her what he just had learnt. He could use a sharp brain now. It absolutely made sense, given the fact that the kill order had been placed into Saul's box, there must have been an access point related to him. And if he and Allison were a couple, or maybe just shacking up, she would certainly had been able to get access to his keys. And, as station chief, she'd highly likely known about his and Saul's discreet arrangement. But why would she have wanted Carrie to disappear? And had Saul been aware of this? Agreed on it? Or had he been played here? By whom? Allison obviously. But why? And who was the shadow in the last picture? And why did it stop as soon as Carrie had left Germany and joined the CIA again?

And more to the present time, what should he do now? Talk to Saul, talk to Dar? To both of them? He had always liked Saul, trusted him, was about to start over new in his team, but if he had been the one behind the threat to Carrie...no, that didn't make any sense, he and Carrie already had been discussing this last summer. She was back in his team for months now, he would have plenty of opportunities to get rid of her. For fuck's sake, he even had brought her to Ramstein, when he had been closer to death than anything else. He was not capable to believe that there was any evil in Saul, not when it came to Carrie. But exploit Saul to Dar? Get Dar informed and maybe trigger actions against Saul he would never be able to revoke? Or not inform Dar - but then, when things finally would go down the drain, he would be lost, Dar's fury would be outrageous.

What a fucking clusterfuck. He needed to talk to Carrie, but even more than before felt a bit paranoid and an urge to be very careful. The shadow in the last picture had really scared him. Fuck, the question who had been after them should have gained much more attention much earlier.

So, not tonight then, but tomorrow with a new burner phone and some precautions, he would call Carrie.

\------------------------

He didn't sleep much that night.

If Saturday had a theme it would've been "Getting Rob tired". He woke him up by 7, saying he needed a run and they went running through Tiergarten for about two hours. After breakfast they changed their hotel again and then Quinn decided to follow Otto's advice to go to Pergamon museum. He wasn't really concentrating, albeit found it fascinating whereas Rob was close to loose his patience with him.

"Boy, one should think you've seen enough of Syria in present to not wanting to see Syria's past as well. No wonder all is left there is a fucking desert when they hauled all the good stuff over here."

He got himself a burner phone which brought him a dirty smirk from Rob and then suggested to watch the NFL game in the hotel, so he could get Rob loaded. They had steaks from the room service, watched the game, drank beer and whiskey (with Quinn watering the green plant next to his comfy chair more than actually drinking whenever Rob and Liam weren't looking) and by 11 pm, he pretended to be drunk and tired and to go for an early night, waving with his burner phone. Rob gave him the friendly advise that most girls don't appreciate calls from shitfaced lovers and Quinn backed out. 

Back in his room he changed into black clothes, took his Glock with him, left the lights turned on and soon left the hotel through the staff staircase and basement. He spent a good three hours travelling through nightly Berlin, walking through metro stations, using trains, changing trains, leaving trains just when their doors closed, sitting in two pubs, until he was absolutely sure he wasn't being followed. Then he checked into another hotel, using one of his fake passports and paying cash, hoping he wouldn't get to much attention for arriving at the middle of the night. But, nice thing about upscale hotels, the night receptionist was nothing but kindly professional and he was finally settled in his room.

It was about 10.30 pm Washington time when he finally called her, laying comfortable on the huge kingsize bed, excited like a teenager, he thought amused about himself when dialling her number. She answered after the third ring.

"Hello?"

"It's me."

"Quinn, oh my god, it's so good to hear your voice. How are you?" The moment her voice softened when she realized it was him had alone been worth all the hassle, he decided.

"Missing you. Really missing you. How are you?"

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, enough to make him worried.

"I am trying. And mostly I am successful, no freak outs so far. But I realize every day how much I miss you. But you don't have to worry. Maggie and Frannie are doing a good job in helping me to keep my shit together."

That sounded like an honest answer, he decided.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Speaking to you on phone" she teased him.

"No, before I called. Frannie's asleep I assume."

"Yeah, thank god. She was up until 9, we set up a trampoline in the garden today and I couldn't get her off that thing. Although, it is really fun, I used it too. And so I just had a bath, got a bit sweaty out there. I was just about to go to bed with a glass of wine and a New Yorker, to read a bit."

He smiled at the scenes he could picture from her telling about her day, she and Frannie on the trampoline, two bundles of energy, flying hair in the sun, blond and ginger, Frannie wanting to extend the fun for as long as possible, Carrie giving in numerous times, then bribing her off the trampoline probably with a sweet treat, Frannie finally collapsing in her Winnie Puh pj, Carrie exhausted but happy after a day with her daughter, relaxing in the bath tub and now about to settle in bed, with her favourite weekend read. Seemed, he just called in the right moment.

The imagination of her in the bathtub stirred his mind and...well, it was worth a try, they had done it once before, why not...

"What are you wearing?" She could hear his voice was different now, a bit husky. She smiled, a brief memory about the phone call a couple of months ago, early in their dating flashing through her mind. 

"One of your T-Shirts."

"Uhm, I guess, it's really time, I buy you some nice nightgowns, I am thinking maybe dark blue silk..." his voice trailed off.

He could hear her smile. "I like wearing your shirts. Your smell still lingers a bit in them. I like that. And it's not that anybody was around here the last days who needed to be impressed with fancy, lacey underwear."

"Get it off. I want you naked."

He could hear some rustling of fabric and closed his eyes.

"Consider it done. But this time I want us to go together. So you get off your clothes as well."

That was a fair and very welcome suggestion, he thought and quickly did as told and sunk back into the cushions and sheets. As last time, he did most of the talking, apparently much more convenient with it as she was, but he found her modesty rather sweet, and the sounds she made while taking care of herself were more than enough for him. So he told her, what he wanted to do with her when he'd be back, what he wanted her to do with herself right now, what he was doing with himself in that very moment, how much he loved her, how much he missed her. She came when he described her how much he longed to be inside her, to fill her and to hold and kiss her while entering her, and her moaning took him with her. 

They were silent for a while, but it wasn't awkward, just peaceful and he felt very close to her during those minutes of afterglow while he was listening to her breath calming down again.

"Don't fall asleep now, there is something else, I gotta tell you" he finally said, unwilling to break the mood, but it had to be done.

And then he told her about his evening with Düring and the photos. He could hear how shocked she was in the first moment. He couldn't blame her, he had seen the actual evidence and still had had to fight for his composure.

But Carrie being Carrie, soon her brain kicked in and she discussed all angles and aspects with him. She even came up with thoughts he had not had before.

"Have you considered, it could be a play, a test, they are testing you, where your loyalities lie? Maybe both of them, maybe just Dar? Or Dar already knows and wants to see how you react now in your new role?"

And, even worse: "I hate to say it, but there is another possibility. Maybe Saul knows Allison is the traitor and tries to get information from her, is treating her like an asset. He wouldn't be the first agent going great length, even including emotional or sexual involvement, to reach his aim."

Quinn didn't answer on that, there was no need to, he knew, she knew he was thinking of Bridy and Aayan. But still, she was fucking right, he never had met a smarter person when it came to analyzing intel and to draw conclusions. But with no more intel than these fucking pictures they wouldn't solve the puzzle.

"Quinn, you need someone over there you can trust, someone to discuss the matter with. If it's someone who knows Allison, it would be even better. I am happy to do it on phone, but I am too far away and my knowledge of Allison dates too far back, she might have changed over the 11 years since I worked with her. Is there someone you can rely on?"

"Rob and Liam, my ass keepers. But honestly, this clusterfuck is far too complicated to discuss it with covert ops who never neither know Saul nor Allison." 

"But there is at least one person. Astrid. You think, you can talk to her, does she know Allison? I bet she wouldn't give you away, even if the crap will hit the fan."

She was right, and he was impressed by her suggesting.

"Have you met Allison yet?"

"Not to talk. Just a brief hello in the hallway. She knows I am here though, but I only have an appointment with her next week."

"Good. You need to prepare yourself well for it, actually if I were you, I'd rehearse different scenarios with Astrid. The good thing is, you're ahead of Allison. Highly likely she has no idea that she's been made, so that plays as your advantage. Try to get a second meeting with her after the first...uhm...let me think...it's all so long ago. In Bagdad, she liked cocktails, telling me always about the best daiquiris in the world, mixed at a beach bar in St. Lucia. But maybe now, at a more "civilized" station, that urging his gone. But still, nothing will get in motion within the station, I am pretty sure, so you need to try to lure her out. Need to be seen with her.

He was so much enjoying this, debating a case with Carrie, that he almost forgot what this case had been originally about - to kill Carrie and him.

They were discussing for a long time whether to involve Saul and Dar or just one of them and when. Carrie pointed out that her decision would be clear, with Saul being her mentor for years, but that he had to make his own decision, "but whatever you choose, I will believe in you doing the right thing."

In the end they decided on him talking with Astrid on Monday, and then asking Saul for a one on one. Carrie would see Dar on Monday and ask him to call Quinn through a secured line. He wanted to give Saul the chance to gather some composure befor facing the conflict with Dar, but given his life long relationship with Dar and his status of transitioning in between teams right now, he couldn't leave him out.

They had been talking a good three hours when she finally asked him to be very careful. He promised.

"Carrie, I don't know when I can call again, I'd rather keep you completely out of it as long as we don't know what's this is about. I am sure nobody tailed me tonight, but I won't take any chances here and when things get a bit more heated up here, there might be no chance to slip through Rob's surveillance again for hours. But I need you to be ok, I need you to not worry and I promise, I will be back soon, ok? And give Frannie a kiss, I got a stuffed cuddly hippo as present for her."

"Don't call again, just come back. But I will cherish the memory of this call. I love you. And, if I were still your superior, I'd say pretty damn good work for just one week assigned to a new case."

"Well, that was luck. And Otto Düring obviously having a crush on you and feeling very protective when it comes to you."

"Bad for him, because I am obsessed by you. And now we both need to sleep, I am facing at least 8 hours trampoline training tomorrow."

"Uhm, that will make your ass even more pretty."

"Well, then dream of the said ass, I certainly know what I will dream of tonight."

He loved her for the light tone she was using to end their conversation, knowing that it was more difficult for her than for him, and that she did that for him, wanting to show him that she was ok.

"Good night Carrie, I love you."

He allowed himself the luxury to sleep for two hours in the crisp, starched sheets, then showered and was already on his way out when he decided for a small detour to the hotel's business centre using one of the computers there for a quick order. He would never return to that hotel, so he could dare to leave that trace.

He was back in his room just before ten, five minutes later he heard Rob knocking at the door, asking if he was ready for breakfast.

\-----------------------------

Carrie woke up a couple of hours later, better rested than him, still savouring the memory of the long coversation with him when she got ready for a morning round on the trampoline with Frannie. She just had her first coffee when the door bell rang. Probably Maggie, needing some eggs or coffee or whatever.

But she was wrong.

A delivery boy, bringing a huge bouquet of flowers, sent by John Callaghan from Philadelphia. The card said "If all business conversations were that pleasurable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking for a way to use some of the canon information to weave into my story and I hope you like it. I have to say, your nice comments for the last chapters really kept me going and I hope you like Quinn back in business as well. Let me know what you think.


	33. Berlin, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn's having a couple of important conversations on Monday. No Carrie involved, focussing in Quinn in Berlin, but I guess she'd be very proud of him.

He spoke to Astrid Monday at lunch. If she had been surprised when he had asked her to join him for lunch while doing a walk along the channel, she didn't say so. She was indeed genuinly surprised when she heard about the matter of their conversation. She didn't know Saul very well, but knew that her own boss valued Saul a lot. She herself had been meeting with Allison several times, women in the high ranks of intelligence business are rare, and so the business meetings had been followed by a couple of dinners and after work drinks. They hadn't formed a friendship though, Allison had always had a kind of air of...Astrid was searching for the word a long time, she couldn't put a finger on it and finally decided for distance. But she never had pictured Saul and Allison forming a couple, although she knew Saul had been to Germany regularly over the stretch of the last months. But with the NSA scandal still lingering, more and more islamic terrorists having ties in Germany or having lived there, it wasn't a strange thing, that he was around a lot. And again, it wasn't unusual for the station chief to be seen with high rank officials from the central office. Kind of a perfect cover, Quinn thought.

He had put a copy of the photograph with the shadow in Astrid's sandwich bag which he handed her when they sat down by the channel. She had a long look at it while pretending having difficulties to decide between avocado puree or grilled veggies. Silently she was impressed he still had her being vegetarian in mind - maybe he really was going to be successful in his new job line, she thought, he clearly had an eye to details and a memory like an elephant.

She agreed on the shadow: There was someone behind the curtain.

But without being able to use BND resources there was nothing she could do and just an inofficial conversation over lunch was definately not enough to pull some strings. But, in case Peter would want her to, she offered to set up an occasion for after work drinks or dinner with Allison, so he could meet them "accidentially". And, certainly she would be available for him whenever he needed a counter part to discuss clues and options.

Quinn was glad, when they had talked last week he hadn't expected that he had to rely on her professionally so quickly, and that she agreed without hesitation was more than he had expected, given the fact of their previous and now changed relationship.

When they slowly walked back along the channel Quinn briefly thought about sitting at the bank of that very channel, just about two miles further upstream, and being determined to end his life. It had been less than a year ago and even if he still often felt his demons, especially at night, it was like thinking about someone else. He had had high fever, when he sat there, but he knew better than to blame it just to the fever. He had been close, so close. And if it hadn't been to the gunwound, pain and sepsis, he even might have been able to tie himself before Hussein found him...and then he would have jumped. Scary thought, given what had happened since then. But again, if Carrie's wellbeing or life would be at stake today...he still would make the same choice, he thought. But maybe he should try to find out if Hussein was still living in that house and should meet and thank him, whereas he clearly had no intentions to visit the house itself again. Him overhearing the jihadist's conversation had been the starting point for his unfortunate latest adventure in Syria, and although he was quite convinced that his travel buddies hadn't had the slightest chance to survive down there, he was not keen on checking out. But he could ask Rob to trace Hussein for him, if he was still there, he would need to leave the house every now and then and he could approach him then.

\---------------------------

But this afternoon would be dedicated to more urgent matters. Saul. He had spent all Sunday trying to sort out his feelings, conflicting as they were. Unbelievable rage, as obviously Saul had put Carrie's life at danger and by that had been the starting point for everything which had happened last summer in Berlin, pity, spite, incomprehension, but somehow, deep down, a strain of understanding...the shit, we do for love, for somebody to care...but none of this feelings should matter when he was going to confront Saul, he needed a clear mind and focus. In a way, it was like preparing for one of his covert target missions, he had to clear his mind from everything else, tunnel his focus and blend everything else out. He had decided to ask Saul out of the station for a brief one on one about some intel he had found on sleeper cells, pretending to need the elder one's advice. If Allison really was the mole, the station itself was no safe spot for a conversation with Saul. Saul had looked at him quizzically but had agreed to meet him for coffee after lunch. 

After they had set down in the small corner coffee shop he had choosen, Rob and Liam at sight in a car outside, he handed Saul the envelope without saying anything. Saul opened it, went through the first pictures, looked at him, brow furrowed, and then went through the other pictures. When he was done, he hadn't him the stack back, silently, not making eye contact. He the took his glasses off, buried his face in his hands and took a deep sigh. Quinn didn't say anything. They hadn't touched their coffees yet. Quinn put some sugar in Saul's cup, stirred and pushed it over to the older man.

"Where did you get these?"

"Doesn't matter."

"How long do you have them?"

"Doesn't matter either."

"Why did you put surveillance on me?"

Quinn stifled a short laugh. "I am flattered. But you really think I could? How? I am back in active service like 8 days, so obviously I am as surprised by these as you."

"Who knows about these?"

"Fuck, Saul, this is not the question here. This is not about saving your ass. I probably shouldn't even talk to you about these but hand them directly to Dar. Consider this as the only open debth I still had with you, owing you for bringing Carrie to Ramstein last December. Has it ever occured to you, that this probably is" - he pointed onto the photos - "how our kill box operation last year has been compromised? And even worse, have you seen this?" He threw the picture with the shadow towards Saul. "And now it gets really interesting: With whom has she been doing this? And for how long? I am obviously in rage for a lot of personal reasons, and I guess, you can't blame me for this, but let's put that aside for a while. The real question is: Is she the mole? Since when? And who's asset is she then? Think back to the bomb attack in Switzerland. Carrie said you were quite convinced it were the Russians. Could she be the missing link? Think, Saul, think."

He crossed his arms over his chest and starred at the senior man's face. He saw him processing, thinking, and he saw a terribly painful streak building up in his eyes. Disappointment, betrayal, loss, loneliness, all that. He gave him time, sipped his coffee and just waited. When Saul finally talked, credit where it's due, he didn't make any attempt to defend Allison or excuse his choices. He seemed suddenly much older, weaker.

"I've been a fool, dumb and blind, whereas I should have seen it, latest last summer. But I chose to look away, in a way glad that nobody asked the questions I asked myself. And with the weeks and months passing by, the nagging questions became fewer and fewer, and then fell silent. Nothing fishy happened and though I convinced myself it was just a strange coincidence. But I should have known, Dar never forgets, and when he insisted on sending you here, I kind of knew what was on stake. But I never made the logical connection between Allison and the Russians, the missing link between Carrie's name in the box and the greater picture, you have at least to believe this. I would never put Carrie's life at risk. And yours neither, I hope you know that. You know, when Mira left, after Islamabad, the deal with Haqqani, Carrie leaving me...I guess, I was an easy target, a pathetic old fool."

"Islamabad had an impact on each of us. None of us came back unaffected." The shit we do for love, he thought once again. Who was he to judge? Sending himself to war in Syria for 30 months wasn't exactly what you could call the ethically better choice in comparison to shacking up with the next best available co-worker, searching maybe for companionship, love, someone to hold onto, who knows? And again who was he to judge. Saul had been the one captured by Haqqani and only god knew how he felt today about the prisoner exchange and all the shit that happened afterwards. And then Mira had left him, Carrie had estranged him, had even left the agency, changed the continent, put an ocean between them. Islamabad had been a turning point in the fate of so many of them, and those who survived, they all and each had made some pretty bad choices afterwards. 

"What's happening now?"

"What d'you think?"

"I guess you'll arrest me, inform Dar, he will fly in and then you'll try to put surveillance on Allison, try to rattle her cage."

"More or less. I was hoping for you, to voluntarily choose my room and Rob's company over an official arrest, at least until Dar's here. I would like to keep this very quiet. Intel said, SVR is having some big wigs around this week, so I guess it's a good week to rattle some cages. Maybe you can help."

"Let's see what Dar says to this. I guess you'll wanna keep my phone." Saul pushed it over the table. Rob came in and stood next to Saul who slowly got up.

"Thank you, Peter, you are a decent man. I won't forget, I promise."

\---------------------------------

Dar called him 30 minutes later on his burner phone, obviously not amused on Carrie's involvement in this. When Quinn briefly introduced him to the current situation, he was silent for a while. Quinn knew, he was building up steam. Him informing Saul first had both hierarchally and in terms of risk assessment been a bit muddy. But still he was confident it had been the right choice, at least in terms of humanity. And Saul's reaction had proven him to be right, and without a phone in his hotelroom, Saul was no risk at all.

And here we go, he thought, when Dar snarled "Nice proof of where your loyalities lie. Did it ever occur to you that yo should have informed me, namely the second this evidence came to your hands?! Not Carrie, not Saul, not half the world. How come you suddenly think you work all alone there and it's up to you to make those decisions?"

Quinn briefly thought with an itonic half-smile that usually Dar had been the one preaching him, he was alone, would always be alone, always would have to make his own choices and work with the consequences, but he knew better than saying that. So he said nothing.

"We'll talk about it, when I am there. I'll fly out in 2 hours, expect me there in the morning. Meet me at the hotel lobby. And get Saul a room of his own, Rob and Liam can take turns in watching him. But it's pathetic enough as it is, so don't make it worse by me imagening he's confessing his sins to you while you are laying next to each other in a kingsize bed tonight. And don't meet with Allison before I am there. Just because you found out more in a week than others in months, that doesn't mean you are James Bond now. Beginner's luck. And get rid of that phone now. And be careful, if anybody wrong winds what you are about to reveal you are doomed before you know it."

Quinn briefly wondered if he really had heard some sympathy in Dar's voice when he was talking about Saul, but he couldn't get his head around that, so he dropped that thought.

Back in Langley, Dar sat a while silently in his office, considering the odds of what just had happened. Peter Quinn, always one for surprises, he had to give him that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Berlin takes longer than I thought but I promise, the future story line needs this part of the story to be told. Hope you enjoy it, even if C/Q are not together in this chapter. Laure001 - how do you like Dar here?
> 
> Thanks for your feedback, as always.


	34. Germany, Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, the Germany part got longer than planned but Quinn is developing too many own ideas to handle in fewer chapters. So, there will be Part V in a few days, and then back stateside.

He returned to his hotel in the evening, after a brief stop at the office, making himself seen and trying to get some vibes if anybody was missing Saul yet. But at least nobody had asked him.

He sat in his room for a while, finally made a decision, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and two tumblers and went to Saul's room. It was Liam's turn with Saul, but Quinn sent him away with a nod. Saul and he drank, in the beginning silently, then Saul started to talk. Quinn just sat and listened. The tought how right Dar had been with his comment about confessing briefly crossed his mind. But he didn't mind, neither Dar's snarky comments, nor Saul needing someone to talk to. 

And after Saul had relieved his heart, he seemed less broken than before, like he had gained some composure back. It was then, when he started to toy with the idea, that he himself could plant surveillance on Astrid's mobile devices and bag. They usually met two or three nights a week, when he was around, and as long as she didn't suspect anything, he would be the easiest access to her. Quinn was in a way surprised, Saul came round quite fast from broken lover to revenge-seeking agent, but Saul was determined.

"I was blind long enough. And now I see again, more clear than ever. I need to be part of her undoing, otherwise I'll never forgive me."

"It's not like she's the only mole the CIA ever had to deal with..."

"No, and she won't be the last. But I should have seen, more and earlier. Carrie would have seen it earlier than me, if she'd stayed here last summer. Imagine, if we had been successful with our plan for Syria. I actually convinced myself that we could change the world. And I ruined it."

Self-loath was a well-known feeling for Quinn, so he just said he would discuss the matter with Dar.

\-----------------------------

Dar arrived a good 12 hours later and after some biting comments about how Quinn had handled the situation in each and every way exactly like it was not meant to happen, he calmed down surprisingly quickly. Those two guys must have a hell of history together, Quinn thought, not for the first time. 

It took time then to plot it because everything just needed to seem to be perfectly normal. Quinn had often thought that black ops business was kind of boring with long hours of observation, waiting and surveillance, just until then suddenly the moment was there and everything had to happen very quickly, with a steady hand but quickly. But this here was kind of worse because in black ops you kind of knew what you were waiting for, whereas now, everything could happen, to many unknown parts in the equation. 

They had decided that it was time for him to meet Allison but only after Saul had managed to put the devices onto her which wouldn't happen before Wednesday night. Now it was Monday so there was a lot of time to kill - or to spend usefull. 

\----------------------------

He decided for the later one and asked Rob to track Hussein for him. After the first night they knew Hussein still lived in that house and after two more days observing Quinn felt confident to approach him on the sidewalk in front of what was apparently Hussein's favourite bakery. He stepped right into his way, pretending to loose a newspaper. As he had predicted, Hussein immediatly bent down to help and Quinn saw the moment of recognition, then hesitation, then delight in his eyes.

"You came back."

"Yeah, I did. Wanna talk some where?"

"There's a cafe down the road at the corner, maybe we sit down there?" Quinn had anticipated that suggestion, so Rob was already waiting there for them, watching the street over a cup of coffee, looking like any other early morning customer.

Quinn bought coffee for Hussein and himself and they sat down. Hussein watched him thoughtfully.

"You came back. And you look well. But your leg seems to hurt. Why?"

Quinn was stunned by the man's observation, as long as wasn't exhausted he had been convinced nobody could see the problems he was still having with his leg. He decided not to comment on the cause for his newer injuries.

"I came back to thank you. And to let you know I value now what you gave me. Another chance."

"That makes me happy. I prayed for you. I wondered every now and then, how you are and where you went. Tell me, did you get back to Carrie?"

Quinn was on guard. "How d'you know about her?"

Hussein smiled "You called out for her when you had your fever. You spoke about her. When I had you on my table the first night, I was pretty sure you wouldn't make it. Your injuries were grave, you were septic and suicidal. And without fighting, there is no way to survive what you suffered, not without a clinical enviroment and ICU equipment. So I thought, given the circumstances and stage I found you in, I was about to give you over to god, let him decide whether you'll live or die. But then, you fought harder for life than anybody I ever met before. And whenever you said something, either in your feverish fantasies or while you were sleeping, it was about Carrie. So I thought, you fought for her."

For a long while, Quinn said nothing. What could he say? He hadn't known, the first days under Hussein's care were still non-existent in his brain and memory, but it fit. He indeed had fought for her, only for her, so why not admit it, now?

"Yeah, I got back to her. After...a long time."

Hussein smiled again. "That makes me very happy."

He then paused, studying Quinn's face. "You know, Bibi and his friends, most of them didn't come back. But you did. If I ask you a question now, you don't need to answer. But...you are not a mercenary, are you?"

Quinn said nothing, just looked at him and gave him a small nod.

"I thought so. So, what are you then?"

"Hussein, I guess, it is better, if I don't tell you..."

"No, no, don't get me wrong. I...let's say, if I knew something, because two of them returned, were you the person I should tell?"

"Let's just assume for a moment, I would be that person" Quinn said slowly, his mind spinning rapidly while he was talking "I would tell you right now to think very carefully, before you talk. Because it could happen, that there would be consequences on what you tell me, so I would tell you to make up your mind very clear before you choose to talk. And if I were you, I would re-evaluate what I know about my...patient..., about him...clearly being american...and what that could involve."

Hussein was silent for a while, deep in thoughts. When he spoke again, he didn't look at Quinn. "So, let's assume, Hajik was right, when he was asking you about being a spy. Would that, theoretically I mean, imply you are an american spy? CIA?"

Quinn said nothing. Hussein had to make that decision alone. Because whatever it would be, he would have to face the consequences alone, too. He could see him struggling, fighting with himself, and finally making a decision. "If I were in the position to know something and would turn to you, and you were in the position to...take actions...then it might be a good idea to have a closer look on the apartment in the second floor, the one where Hajik and his friends used to live. Two or three of them came back, just a few weeks ago. They brought some guys along. I don't know what's going on, but they are planning something. When I collected the rent, I saw a huge map of Berlin train system. And they talk at night, I can hear them through the ventilation in the bathroom, it's about making the west see, on their own soil, stuff like that."

Quinn felt an icy shiver down his spine.

He bent forward. "Hussein, I can't make that unheard or unsaid. I won't be involved. But I'd be glad if you would be willing to talk to...someone, I trust...and then maybe visit your friends out of town for a couple of days...?" He texted Rob to get Astrid to the Mauerpark within the next 30 minutes and suggested Hussein a walk.

\---------------------------------------

Afterwards he asked himself why he hadn't spent a fucking single thought before meeting with Hussein. He should have known that there had been a mere chance for some of his travel companions to make it back, up for further and worse mischief. He hated the thought of putting Hussein in danger, but he had to be connected with Astrid.  
The BND had to decide what to do next, and honestly, he felt no itch to be involved into that operation, the only thing he cared for, was Hussein's safety.

If the intel he had provided would proof to be right, and they would know soon, the apartment would be bugged this night, Hussein would be a valueable asset for the BND. What a turn of events.

Astrid met him in the office late in the evening, approaching his desk and smiling at him. "You are really determined to be a hell of an agent in your new work line, are you? Hiring an asset in a blink."

Quinn shrugged. "It just happened. I owed him a thank, wasn't expecting what happened then. But I guess, he'll be useful for you. I hope, he's not putting himself at risk."

"I promise, I'll take good care of him"

"I know. I am glad that it's you who is going to work with him. Listen, there is a dinner party at Otto Düring's this weekend, would you like to join me and go with me?"

She was surprised, he could see that, but she nodded. "I never met him personally, although he is a legend somehow, so, yeah, why not."

"So, Saturday, then, I'll pick you up at 8."

That night in bed, he was awake a long time, wishing he could call Carrie and talk with her about the events of the day. And just hear her voice. He hoped, he'd be done here soon, just to go home. He anticipated that things would gain speed soon, but he knew there was no way now to sneak around alone at night like last weekend. But he missed her and he was wondering, how she was doing. Maybe he could get himself another burner phone and sent her at least a short message. It was different though, over the last years he always had had his weak moments, when he had allowed his mind to wander to her, but usually those thoughts never had brought him peace, but now, he was allowed to think about her, she was his partner and lover, he could cherish all the memories as long as he wanted, and it was ok to find peace and happiness in them. He even allowed himself to mull a while about Astrid's remark about him proposing soon and strangely, he didn't find it too disturbing. He had no idea how Carrie felt about the concept of marriage itself, and of course it was too soon but if that meant he could spend the rest of his days on earth close to her, he would be willing to consider anything.

\-----------------------------------------

Thursday he finally met with Allison. Saul had bugged her mobile phone and Ipad the night before, had installed a couple of bugs and micro cameras in her apartment and sneaked small GPS transmitters into her favourite handbags. He had done so with a grim determination, after the night in the hotel, he had refused to talk about Allison again. 

Dar and Saul both briefed Quinn on his meeting with Allison.

"It's a very fine line, you'll be balancing. We want her to doubt your role here, without being too certain that immediate action is required. She has to be stirred, best turnout would be her reaching out to he handler and to provide some evidence about her involvement. It wouldn't be a success at all, if you'd disturb her enough to arrange another kill-order to get rid of you, did I make myself clear on that?" Dar starred intensly into Quinn's face.

"She shouldn't know you...still know...Carrie. But if she asks, don't deny, there is always a chance she knows something. And she shouldn't catch you lying."

"No. But as much as I hate to say it, I am convinced nothing will happen just because of my mere presence. If we want anything to happen like before Thanksgiving - and I personally would like to be done way before - I need to dig a bit deeper. At least, I need to adress that I am still curious who was inside Saul's and my operation, and I think, me mentioning the Russians shouldn't harm either. Maybe just a half sentence. She is an experienced agent, I could ask her for her expertise and her opinion. If it's not the the Russians, no harm is done, maybe she'll laugh at me that days of cold war are over, but if she's involved with them that will clearly do the trick. I am not one for just beating around the bushes, I think we should start trying to make her move now." He had discussed it back and forth with Astrid last, and she had agreed with him, that success would need a more bold approach than Dar and Saul were planning on.

He would have preferred to go in without a hearing device, but in the end this was the trade he agreed to: He would decide on the spot where he would take the conversation but Dar, Saul and Astrid would overhear the whole thing.

 

\-----------------------------------

"Peter, I am sorry, I couldn't meet you earlier" she greated him in her office. "Anything, I can get you? Coffee, Tea, Water?" 

They sat down with coffee.

"I must admit, it was quite a surprise to me when I heart you were coming here. I thought you'd be done with german soil for a while after last summer." 

So much about beating around the bush, he thought.

"Well, I guess in our workline you don't have much choices. And given the fact I made some contacts here with potential assets last summer in the jihadist scene, it was just a question of time until I needed to follow up on these, certain...events prevented me from introducing them to the BND last summer. But that's nearly done now, so I guess, I won't stick around much longer."

"Heading home, I see. Where is that now?" 

"We'll see. I am not much one for roots. I guess I'll spend some time in Langeley but soon will apply for a stint at a station in the middle east again, I guess. I always liked working abroad more than Langley-based. How about you? How long will you stay here?"

"Compared to what I've had as postings before, Germany is heaven, so I guess I'll just stick around here, or Europe at least. I prefer not to go back to the middle east. I was in Irak for quite a while. By the way, last summer, you were aware that Carrie's a friend of mine? I was shocked when I learnt her life was in danger and I was very grateful to hear someone took care of her when the agency didn't. I kind of lost track of her when she quit the agency, but I hear she is back in now."

That woman had guts, he had to give her that.

"I heard that too. I didn't know you two go way back. Real friendships are rare in our business. Being personally involved, maybe I can ask you a question. But if it's classified, I understand. Do you have any idea who was behind hunting Carrie and in the end then me too? I know, technically Carrie was out of the CIA then, but I always wondered which line she crossed to be on someone's kill list. Not that her list of misdeeds is short, I guess." He apologized to Carrie in his mind. "And who had the chance to play with Saul's and my operation? I'd clearly say, jihadists, given the jobs I was doing back then here, but why should german sleepers try to get Carrie out the picture? Me, yes, but her? But I couldn't come up with any other suitable idea, I toyed with Israel or Iran but Israel's Mossad never fails on an order, so it can't be them. What would you say, from your expertise, who could have done it?" And now careful, he thought. Just wait.

"I asked that myself many times. I wouldn't rule out Israel. Iran, maybe, but more likely Irak. She spent a long time in Bagdad."

"I thought about Russia every now and then, but couldn't put a finger on it. But yeah, maybe you are right, Irak might be another option...it's just, I'd like to know before I go back down there." He had dropped the R-word and left the topic immediatly, now he had to wait and see. But not for long.

"Russia...I don't know. Why? And why her? She never worked with Russia. And even if things got tense between Russia and the US over the Syrian development, and Germany, the EU and Russia are on difficult terms regarding the Ukraine, the days of the cold war are over. But still, behind the scenes, Russia and the US are talking and finding a way for Syria, so why should they go for an ex CIA agent and an CIA covert agent?"

"I have no idea. I was hoping you could tell me more, as I said, I don't like my cases unsolved. But here, I have no idea where to dig."

"I'll keep eyes and ears open. "

"Well, then..."

"Well..." she raised, and Quinn suddenly had an idea. He smiled at her, a genuine, self-confident smile, making eye-contact just a second too long.

"You know, we have another friend in common. Astrid Wagner. I'll meet her for drinks tonight, catching up. She said, you two go out every now and then. It would be a pleasure, if you'd decide to join." 

She smiled, cold and self-confident. He hoped, Saul wouldn't be hurt and hateful, when she said "why not, let's meet at the monkey bar near the Zoo at 8, it's Budapester Strasse, 25hours hotel."

He hold her gaze just a second longer, then decided it was enough and left with a half-smile "I'll see you there. Looking forward to it."

He wasn't back to his office when he got Astrid's text, saying "You could have asked before, but I'm in. See you there. Dar's fuming."

It was too risky to meet for debrief in the station, so this saved him from being lectured by Dar, who could do nothing but text him to come for debrief to the hotel as soon as possible. 

Well, he'd better follow that request.

On his way to his hotel, he got himself a new burner phone, texting Carrie a message, only to ditch the phone immediatly into Landwehrkanal next to him: "Won't be long now. Miss you. Please don't text back, phone will be gone in an instant. I love you, more than I ever can tell you. But I'll show you. Soon." He wished he could write more, tell her what had happened over the last days, but he was confident, things would get in motion now.

When he arrived at the motel, he braced himself for a verbal showdown with Dar, but still was in a very good mood, still picturing Carrie's smile when she opened his text message.

But when he came to his room, Dar was already waiting for him, alone, a box of donuts on the desk, three of them already munched away. Quinn wondered if he knew that strawberry frosting crumbs didn't go well on grey turtle neck, but didn't say anything.

"I will not do you the favor and discuss your cockiness with you. That was unnecessary and could have taken the whole mission down the drain. But, after you left, she called someone. She didn't talk, just let the phone ring three times. The number belongs to a consecutive series of numbers bought en bloc by the Russian Embassy. So I guess, we can count that as success. Donut?"


	35. Berlin, Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the Berlin chapters

At first, Carrie had been relieved when she had received his message. It had created a warm ball in her stomach, reading that he missed her and loved her. It was a fucking miracle that they both felt confident to say and write those things now. How many years had it been that she herself hadn't even felt secure enough to think those things, let alone speak them out loudly, and now, over the last couple of months, she had learnt to trust him and herself enough to feel, think and say it. And he, he obviously had been able to feel it long before her, and he still was better in phrasing it than she herself, but it had been a long way for him too. But now, it already felt normal in a happy, exciting, positive way to receive such a message. She could picture him, typing the message probably while walking around in Berlin, and then ditching the phone - she assumed he had gotten it just for the single purpose of sending her that message - into the next trash can or the channel. 

She had tried to gather some information about what was going on in Germany right now, why Dar and Saul apparently both were there, but hadn't suceeded. 

When she re-read his message for the fourth or fifth time, worries kicked it. He said, it won't be long now. Which meant, something would happen soon, otherwise he wouldn't be able to predict that. And she feared that something, whatever it might be, because in his workline, those somethings were always related to danger. But it was his last mission, so she just had to believe in his knack for survival once more.

She suddenly realised that she still had no picture of him, let alone of them together. They still were often bad at those mundane, normal things, she thought, making a mental note to herself, that she would change this, as soon as he was back. She would ask Maggie to take a picture of them together, he would hate it, she chuckled to herself, more light-hearted now, but it was time to make adjustments to him being a permanent part of her life, not just a fleeting ghost. 

\-------------------------------

Quinn dressed carefully for his appointment with Allison and Astrid. He had felt pretty safe in Berlin for most of the time being but had make it a habit to carry his gun with him again. He didn't want Allison to notice it, though. He hoped, there wouldn't be a need to fire it, he had been serious when he had told Carrie, Dar, his agency shrink he couldn't stand the thought of adding another casualty to his already long list. He had lost count long ago. The brutality of that fact haunted him every time when he thought about it: "I don't even know how many I killed. Even if I keep telling myself, it was for the right reasons, each and every single one of them was someone's father, mother, son or daughter." He would never be able to atone for the number of lifes he had taken - even if some of them had indeed been pretty bad guys, aiming to take even more lifes. But he had learnt that this was not the way it worked. He couldn't justify a life taken with a life or the lifes saved, he knew, he'd always have to live with his personal horrorshow of a nightly parade of revenants. But, he could and would learn to cope, with her he could.

But still, better safe than sorry, and he knew, if things would get tense and worrisome, his training would kick in, and he wouldn't take any chances of not surviving and not returning to her.

\--------------------------------

He went early, wanting to be there before Allison and to get an overview of the surroundings. He took Rob, placing him at the huge bar which was the centre of the large room which was located at the 10th floor, placed before a large window front, overviewing the zoo, Kurfürstendamm and the ruin of Gedächtniskirche. The toll of damage of another war, another time, still a memorial against the sky, he thought. And still, today we are facing a world with more armed conflicts as ever before.

He chose a small table at the window, seated himself with the window in his back, so he could make eye contact with Rob if necessary. Within the next hour, the place filled, and he was glad when he spotted Astrid. She was followed by two men whom she gave a nearly non-existant half smile before she came over to him and he knew she had brought fellow agents along as well. In a way, it was funny, how like-minded they were.

Just a moment after she had arrived, Allison came in, apparently alone, but just because he didn't see anyone, it didn't mean nobody was there. Astrid and Allison greated each other with double-kisses on their cheeks and Allison leant into him with an elusive, light embrace, which Astrid commented with raised eyebrows behind her back. He gave her quick smile over Allison's shoulder and, when Allison sat down, kissed her on one cheek.

They had their drinks, Allison insisted on daiquiris for all of them but Quinn opted out after the first round and settled for single malt, he wasn't a cocktail drinker at all. The conversation was light, about Berlin, living in Germany, chitchat about collegues they all knew (which were quite a few, he thought surprised), with a very subtle flirting note from Allison's side. He played along, but every now and then saw Astrid raising her eyebrows clearly amused.

He didn't intend to get drunk so he took his whiskey rather slow, adding some water, every now and then (kind of a crime, he thought), so he was still on his second drink when Allison ordered the third round.

Allison suddenly changed the topic of the conversation.

"Tell us, Peter, how did it feel to find a kill order for a former co-worker last summer?"

He didn't answer and pretended to take a sip of his drink. Once again, he was sure, the lesser he talked, the more would she.

"Is it a principle of yours not to go against your own people, whatever they did, or was it kind of a knight-in-a-shiny-armour-move and related to Carrie herself as a person, maybe a history of both of you we don't know about? Carrie triggers that, I guess, I know Saul Berenson would go great lengths to extract her from all kinds of shit she is famous for creating."

"Betwixt and between. It's just, there was neither rhyme nor reason in it. Why should someone want to kill an ex-agent who had left the agency more than two years ago and why through a highly classified mission only a very few people knew about? If the agency wanted Carrie Mathieson dead or disappear there would have been a thousand ways to arrange without any mess. Like all of us here, I have been trained to assess and evaluate situations, and that just didn't fit. It got suspicously, that's all." God, how much he hated what he had to do here. "So, just very basic spying skills, no fairy tale motives, I am sorry." He smiled at her, openly, he hoped.

"And then, you suddenly disappeared, just after your own life had been in danger. Why? And was really someone in the operation?"

"Well, in my workline, it's a habit not to look back. I go where I am called and as long as it makes some sense to me I do what I am asked and paid for. So my focus shifted elsewhere, I went onto another mission and was pretty sure the matter was in good hands here, given the fact it is you heading the station." He slighty raised the glass towards her as a hint of a toast. "As I told you, I just recently started again to think about it. In case I go to the middle east again, I'd rather know if I am on someone's list down there."

While they had been talking he had noticed a well-trained man in a dark, narrow-cut suit, bald head, sitting at the bar next to Rob. He couldn't quite put a finger on it but usually he knew intel community people when he saw them. Something about the way they placed themselves in a room, scanned the surroundings, just blended in...he just thought, that nobody of the other guests would remind that man later when the guy started to make conversation with Rob. Maybe he really was getting paranoid here, probably just a business traveler winding down after a long day, wanting a drink and some random chitchat. Well, he would find out soon enough Rob wasn't one for pleasant small talk. Rob casted him a very dark look and he went back to the conversation at their table.

Just at the right moment because Astrid leant forward and and placed a photo print on table but covered it with her hand. "I never told anybody because honestly back then, she seemed a bit crazy, and she wasn't even CIA. And I didn't know, you, Peter, were involved." Which was a lie, and they both knew, but he appreciated her idea, which would certainly bring some movement if there was any truth to Allison being the mole, so he forgave her calling Carrie crazy. "But Carrie reached out to me last summer and asked me to identify that person for her. I never did, because the CIA never requested it officially but as we are all friends here, and it's for your sake now, I did some digging." She revealed the photo, which Carrie had taken from their dead haunter in front of the post office. "I can't provide a name, but I can tell you, he is linked to having a history of doing some wetwork for the SWR, so no risk for you in the middle east."

Allison stayed cool, very cool, he had to give her that credit. She just glanced at the picture and then with another sip of her drink "Strange, as the Russians really don't make any sense here. But you know how it is with those low level mercenaries, they often work for different intelligence agencies, pop up here and there, whoever pays has them...so just that he once was linked to the SWR doesn't mean he still was last summer. And clearly, now he isn't working for anybody anymore."

Quinn steered the topic into a different direction soon, still wondering about Rob's newfound friend. When the waiter came round to ask for orders he asked him with a smile towards Allison and Astrid if he could take a photo of the three of them and quickly raised and kneeled behind the women, putting his arms around both their shoulders and pulling them close. He checked the picture, smiled at both of them "who knows when I'll have the chance again to be out with two remarkable women again, certainly not down in Syria" and paid for the drinks. 

\----------------------------------

Back outside, after good-bye, he disappeared around the next corner and hid under the enormous elephant entrance gate of the zoo. Rob caught up with him after a couple of minutes and he texted Astrid where to find him. While they were waiting for her, Rob was muttering about his boring conversational partner, who apparently just had complained about the quality of the drinks. Quinn didn't really pay attention, he grew more and more bored about Rob's ongoing complaints on food and drinks, that guy clearly disgusted anything without goat meat in it.

"I'd say cocktails are for pussies anyway but this guy kept rambling about how much he misses the daiquiries - I thought that was a flower, not a drink - of a bar in St. Lucia, apparently the best in the world. And guess what name the bar has, can't get more cliché: Banana Joe's. Asshole, you owe me a straight whiskey back in the hotel." Quinn froze and stared at him, his memory jogging frantically, back to his phone call with Carrie last weekend. St. Lucia, daiquiries, Allison. He had been fucking right, that guy hadn't just been there by coincedence, and he had choosen absolutely the wrong person to have a bar chat with - there it was, the connection between Allison and the Russians.

Astrid came down the road, followed by the two BND agents and approached them with a quizzical look. "Well, if that wasn't an awkward evening, then I don't know...what was that about the photo then? Since when are you one for keep-sakes, especially weird ones?" He opened the picture on his screen and gave it to her, pointing to the background of their portrait. "We need to identify this man, sitting next to Rob. I am absolutely sure he is SWR. He is the missing link." She glanced back at him, nodding slowly. "I have to admit, I didn't see that coming. But now I know why you almost crushed my shoulder when pulling me out of the visual axis..."

She emailed the photo to her BND office, calling in right afterwards to put urgency on it. While walking back to his hotel, he briefed her on Rob's random conversation about the drinks and what it revealed.

When they arrived at the hotel, Dar was already waiting for them. Allison had called again a number which seemed to be related to the Russian Embassy, but had just used a call code, not talked at all. A minute later, Astrid's office called, revealing the man's identity as Ivar Krupin, a high rank SWR agent, who had been based to various stations worldwide. A quick research by Dar provided the information that some of Krupin's and Allison's stints had matched, the first being 2005 in Iraq. "And that's where Carrie crossed their path." Quinn said into the silent room.

\-------------------------------------

They had moved into BND quarters in the late evening, setting up an ops room there, in order to be able to track all of Allison's moves and communications. Astrid had connected Dar and her boss, a stern German called Jens Adler, to arrange that quickly and silently. But after that single call, nothing happened. Not Friday night, not Saturday. Allison apparently spent a long stretch of time in her appartment, went shopping at Lafayette on Saturday morning, met with an unknown woman for lunch, but as far as they could say from overhearing her conversation, it was pretty innocent. Quinn was used to long periods of doing nothing from his covert missions but now felt impatience raising in his chest. He slept a couple of hours over noon on Saturday and was just back to the ops room when Saul received a phone call from Allison. They all fell into dead-silence. Allison appeared in a good mood, asking Saul if he still was intending to go on Düring's dinner party. She would meet him there, suggesting to spend the night at his hotel room afterwards. Quinn turned away, he didn't want to meet Saul's eyes. He had to admit that he had forgotten about the dinner party but given the new situation it came handy that Astrid and himself were on the guest list too.

\---------------------------------------

They arrived at Düring's noble Dahlem residence and Quinn was glad he had interpreted "small dinner party" in the right way, wearing a dark suit and white shirt, as he spotted around 80 elegantly dressed people having apertifs on the lawn around Düring's villa. He looked out for Otto Düring who greeted him with a genuine and heartfelt smile and introduced Astrid to him. Düring took them both along to the garden bar, ordering champagne for them and engaging into a german conversation with Astrid. He politely changed back to English as soon as they had their drinks, introducing some guests' names when he thought they might be interesting for Quinn. Quinn silently thought, he didn't give a shit, he wasn't one for social gatherings, but Astrid seemed to enjoy and Düring was a considerate host, the food was excellent and he was beginning to relax when a jazz quartett started a live performance, thinking how much Carrie would enjoy this. He would take her back to the jazz bar soon where they had enjoyed that splendid evening in their early dating. And this time he wouldn't allow himself to be irritated by the babysitter back home...He wondered if Carrie had been a regular guest on Düring's parties, maybe with Jonas, probably her job had included both background checks for and attenting the functions itself.

He slowly made his way around the residence, trying to get an overview of the outlay, the gardens and the security measurements, which were nearly non-existent. As far as he could see, just anybody could arrive tonight in the parking lot, the only access control to the private function being two private security guards checking people's invitations and names on the guest list when entering the garden gate.

Carrie had meantioned that Düring insisted on living quite a normal and accesible life despite his wealth, and that putting on security on him had been a constant challenge because of his obvious neglect to him being an attractive target to kidnappers and other creatures from the dark. He spotted Astrid's tall and blond figure every now and then, most of the times with Düring at her side or close by, watching her. That would be unexpected, but welcome, he thought and wondered if Astrid already had noticed Düring being the newest member in her club of admirer.

He called Dar around ten if there were any news but nothing. He only spotted Allison at around 10.15 pm, she was talking to a man Düring had introduced as high rank secretary of the minister of interior. He had seen Saul before, Astrid, Saul and he himself had talked a while and listened to the music. As it had to be expected there hadn't been any contact between Saul and Allison but Saul had confirmed that they usually didn't talk more as socially expected on functions but usually met later at her car to go home together and to spend the night together. Today Saul had arrived by taxi. 

It was shortly after midnight when Saul gave him a call, muttering "We are leaving." He texted Astrid and moved quickly around the back of the house, where the garden was dark and not illuminated like the front lawn, approaching the parking lot from the back, his shooting hand at his weapon. Nothing had looked like Allison and her russian friend planning anything for tonight,  
but his instinct told him that there must have been a reason for Allison using a call code 24 hours ago. Maybe they still didn't have the full picture, but he just didn't believe that she was going to spend the night with Saul just like any normal night.

He saw Saul entering a car's passenger seat and sensed a female silhouette behind the steering wheel but it was too dark to see more. He quickly moved closer and it was just a fraction of a second that he saw the metallic glow of a weapon in the twilight being hold to Saul's temple from a man sitting on the back seat, then the car pulled back and drove off. With him being alone, not at a good shooting angle, just one weapon, a party with nearly a hundred civilians in his back, having no idea whether there were more opponents hiding in the parking lot or around there was not the slightest chance to do anything.

He dialled Dar. "Do you still have Allison on the monitor?"

"Movement yes, right now no sound."

"She and one other guy kidnapped Saul, we need a team following them. I'll follow with Rob and Astrid, expect to give us directions in 5 minutes."

He called Astrid who just came down from the house to the parking lot, followed by Düring. Quinn didn't want him to be involved at all so he just told him they had to be quick now and would be in touch later. Rob had started the car, Astrid insisted on driving, clearly a good point, as she was the only one with knowledge about the local surroundings.

Quinn told Astrid and Rob the very little he knew while they drove on A 100 eastbound. Allison's car was about three klicks ahead, Dar had told them the BND was putting on a team on them and was working on a plan, and asked them to stay well out of sight. Quinn thought about the odds to end up as human shield twice in a lifetime, being very worried about Saul.

When they changed to A 10, heading north again, Astrid commented that she was pretty sure, they'd leave the Autobahn soon to head to the polish border, using B 1 through the forest area of Löcknitztal, heading for the checkpoint at Kostrzyn. She asked Quinn to make her a connection with her boss, Adler. Quinn got through him via Liam who was in the ops room and handed Astrid the phone. She was driving at a steady speed, as long as they were on the Autobahn there was no need in risking anything. She discussed her idea with Adler who agreed it was worth a try. There was still a chance that they just would continue their journey on A10 and A11 which would bring them to the bigger checkpoint near Stettin and then to the route along the Baltic Sea with the hugh benefit of ending in the russian enklave of Kaliningrad quite quickly, but the risk of getting caught grew with every kilometre and Astrid and Adler were both confident that the relatively short drive, about an hour eastbound from here to the border, would be Allison's and Krupin's first choice. Adler promised to get a team of local police and federal police to make a fake road block on country road B 1, just behind Müncheberg, due to some fake maitenance work at the country road. 

Astrid then decided to leave the Autobahn at the next exit and to drive towards Müncheberg on smaller roads, coming in from a different direction then as Allison's car. If, and only if, they were right, this would offer the advantage to be able to wait for them in the wetlands south of Müncheberg, whereas Allison's car would have to come down from north on that single road. If Allison was heading to Stettin instead - and that was the downside - they'd loose about two hours and wouldn't be able to reach her again before she reached the border. But still the BND would be on her heels.

She shared her thoughts briefly with Quinn and he agreed, every instinct told him, that Allison would prefer the smaller checkpoint at night over the large station during busy morning hours which always could include extended periods of waiting. So they left the Autobahn and continued their journey in silence.  
Astrid now clearly drove too fast for a narrow country road but their advantage would just be worth something if they arrived behind the block before Allison.

Two kilometers south of Müncheberg Astrid switched of the lights, turning to Peter and asking him about the latest from Adler. 

"He said, the blockade is up, federal police on side, BND has two teams tailing Allison's car about a klick behind her, a helicopter is ready to start from airfield Eggersdorf which is 3 flight minutes from here. Adler himself is there. Allison's car is just left the Autobahn and will be at the blockade in about 8 minutes. About three to five minutes later here. Another BND team is driving up here from Eggersdorf, they should be here in about 15 minutes."

"What are we going to do?"

"Park and hide here or better, fake a car breakdown, but keep out of side, she knows you. Put some mud on your number plates, maybe they checked them. Rob and I go out, in case the BND or federal police are not here in time. Dar gave clearance for taking any action necessary, aim is to keep at least Saul alive, the others too if possible. Rob, I need more ammo. Do you have a weapon?" Astrid nodded and pulled it from a leg holster from under her floating white summer dress. Rob whistled through his teeth, clearly a sound of admiration and surprise. Quinn got rid of his jacket, checked the chamber of his Glock and slipped more ammo in his pockets.

Astrid parked the car half on the road, switching the emergency flasher and lights on, rubbed some mud on the number plates and then they all disappeared into the bushes.

\----------------------------------

Looking back, the next 20 minutes were a series of raveled events unfolding rather quickly and it took days to get through the mess.

A car came down the dark lonely road as predicted and Peter recognized Allison's number plates. A clear hint that she didn't expect to be followed otherwise she'd taken the time to change those or had even changed the car. The car slowed down at the sight of the broken down car but made no attempt to stop. No other cars were to be heard or seen, neither from north nor from south. Where the fuck was the BND? He briefly checked for his phone, just to notice he had left it in his jacket back in the car. Well, he had to make a decision now, Allison's car was just about 70 metres away and as soon as she would have passed their car she'd gain speed again and the probably best chance would evaporate in to thin air. He focused, apologized silently to Carrie, made eyecontact with Rob and moved out of the bushes towards the car, his weapon in his right hand, that side of his body, which Allison and her passengers couldn't see yet, using his left to wave towards the slowly approaching car. There was a mere chance that Allison wouldn't recognize him before she was very close or even out of the car, and Rob and Astrid had a relatively clear perimeter of fire.

The car stopped about 10 meters away from him and Allison got out of the car. She aimed and fired before he even saw her weapon.

While he fell, he thought, he'd really gotten fucking weak, he should have shot before she even had a chance to see him, through the car's windows. Fuck, why did it hurt each time so much? 

He aimed for her shoulder, still determined not to kill, when hell broke loose, he heard a distant noise, shots, a car, but all of that mixed into a white background noise when he focussed, when he tried to blend out the pain and shot into her shoulder, calculated to hurt, to take her out, but not to kill her. She was tough, still standing, aiming again, with her left hand this time when he heard a shot swishing above his head, hitting her throat and carotid. He winced, and couldn't make any sense out of it, Astrid and Rob had been to his left, not behind him.

He got up, aiming for the passenger side now, but not able to make out Saul or Krupin. 

And then, everything went so fast. He saw Saul climbing out of the car, Krupin trying to get hold of him but severly injured himself, Saul getting around to Allison, cradling her on his lap. Quinn knew there was nothing left to save. Suddenly Dar was next to him, Astrid and Rob and myriads of BND agents filling the scene, two agents crushing Krupin down.

He slowly put his weapon back and started to unbutton his shirt, he needed to get rid of his vest, to see if there was more damage done than a massive bruise. He looked down at Dar. "Why did you kill her? Was it that personal?"

Dar looked at him as if he was considering different answers, taking in Quinn getting rid of his vest - just a massive bruise, fucking thank god - and finally offered "You got weak, she could have killed you before you knew it. I couldn't let that happen. It is really time you get out. Your mother would have been proud of you. And now haul your ass back stateside, as quick as you can, it's someone's birthday tomorrow, I'll clean up your mess here, debriefing is Wednesday at Langley, 8 am, don't be late. Ah, Düring followed you, we have him at the airfield, he offered you a ride." He gave him one of is iconic smiles, somewhere between sardonic and this time maybe even a hint of sympathy. "You didn't know, uhm, about her birthday?" He chuckled, and with that he turned and walked over to Saul.

Quinn suddenly had enough of all of it, and Dar just had been...just too much. He turned around, turned his back to Saul, Astrid, Rob, the whole mess and asked the next best police officer for a ride to Eggersdorf airfield. 

Astrid watched him from a distance, a tall, broadshouldered figure in a white shirt slowly leaving, without looking back, and to her, it was a surprising painful sensation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always very much appreciated. And yes, he'll be back to the states in the next chapter, just give me a few days.
> 
> I couldn't resist to let Dar turn the knife once more, even when offering a lot of support here, I thought he would always add a hint of evilness. And I thought it would be very much C/Q not to know each other's birthday as they never celebrated and never spoke about it. Obviously she knows his, because she knows his birth certificate, but I could imagine her not telling him about her birthday because a) it doesn't really matter to her b) because she didn't want him to feel bad on his mission.


	36. Returning home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn is returning state-side, it is Carrie's birthday, so what do you expect to happen?!

Returning home

It turned out that Düring had not only intended to offer him a lift back to Berlin but actually to Washington, in his plane. Quinn was impressed beyond words about the man's generosity and kindness, and was glad to accept, being it the fastest way back home and saving him from all the hassle of commercial flights. 

They drove back to Berlin mostly in silence, arrived at his hotel as early dawn promised a beautiful, sunny day. Quinn had no eye for the beauty of the awakening day, he just quickly collected his stuff, left a note at the reception for Rob and, still wearing his suit pants and the crumbled white shirt, returned to Düring's car.

He had no idea why he felt so raw and worn, or more to the point, he had an exact idea but didn't wanna think about it right now.

Otto drove him to the airfield, finally breaking the silence by asking if there was anything he could tell him about the events of the night.

"I guess, it's gonna be classified, at least most of it. So, let's just say, your hint was indeed very helpful and Saul might need a glass or two with a friend in the next days."

"I see. Is she safe now?"

"Carrie? I hope, as safe as she ever can be. But I'd do anything to protect her."

"I know. Would you give her my greetings? And tell her congratulations for her birthday? I'll be in Washington next months and I'd be very glad to meet both of you for lunch or dinner then."

"We'd like that. Call her when you can confirm a date."

"May I ask you a personal question?"

Quinn turned his head and nodded an approval, wondering what was coming next.

"Astrid Wagner...would you mind if I'd invite her for dinner?"

Quinn was surprised, both by the question itself as well as by Otto having noticed Astrid's and his, well, connection.

"You know, what my only interest is. So, no, I wouldn't mind. I guess, she'd like that a lot, actually." The thing was, he was honestly pretty sure Astrid would like it a lot. He smiled at Otto. "Good luck."

They arrived at the airfield and said their good-byes. Quinn didn't mind when the older man gave him a quick hug and padded his shoulder. He really liked him and it would indeed be nice to see him again.

It wasn't before the plane taxied towards the runway that he noticed he hadn't his phone with him, it was still in his jacket in the car they had used last night. Rob or Dar would bring both items state-side, he was sure of that, but he couldn't let Carrie know now that he was on his way back. Well, about another 12 hours and he would be with her, and honestly, after the shitshow last night, maybe it was worth something to recover first and then surprise her. He wanted to see her face, rather then telling her on the phone.

Seeing Allison dying from Dar's bullet had been a painful experience. Although he had to admit he had underestimated her strength. She had been made from tough stuff. It was still unbelievable how she had managed to change her weapon to her left hand and aim again after he had shot her right shoulder. But probably it had been the power of despair.

He doubted that Dar just had taken the shot to save him (he must have known that I never go without a vest, he thought, one of the golden black ops rules) or if he had taken it anyway, a mole of over a decade in the organization he had devoted his life to must be a fucking personal affair for him. But still Dar's last words to him had stirred feelings he didn't wanna go to. Somehow it was easier to think of Dar as a heartless but highly efficient and successful black ops leader than as human being with feelings, doubts and...a fucking heart. What he had said about his mother...and he had prevented him from having to take another shot, from taking another life himself.

And he had released him. He was free now. Somehow Dar's words had confirmed that much more than his new contract. Maybe our bound is stronger than I ever thought, as much as I hate this idea, he thought. He knew he would never be able to reveal this to Carrie, but somehow it felt okay to mull about it alone over the Atlantic, between timezones and realities. In a way, he feared what would happen next, all his professional life he had been part of the group, it hadn't just been his profession but his life, his existence and his only belonging. He was sure he wanted out, and now he was out, and he was relieved, but felt a gnawing insecurity as well. 

Who was he going to be without that? What would his, no, their life be? A couple with a child, both working more or less full-time in more or less office-based jobs, juggling work and the needs of a family? How did he fit in that picture? He had tried to help with Frannie and to bond with her and as far as he could tell, she really liked him. Sure, he liked her a lot, and it filled his heart with an odd joy when she turned to him to ask for a story or help with anything. 

Was that enough? Was he enough, for Carrie and Frannie? Would his new job be enough? He so much wanted to be out of black ops but now as he was, he wondered if he'd miss the adrenaline, the companionship amongst the members of the group, the closest thing to friends he ever had had. 

But, he had Carrie now. For the first time in his life he was going home, returning to someone, no, to the only one he ever loved. And she loved him. And since christmas she had done everything to make him feel better. And this must be enough, he decided, they would figure the rest out, step by step. 

He allowed himself to fall asleep for a couple of hours, exhausted as he was, it was a deep and dreamless rest. When he woke up, it took him some seconds to take in where he was, then noticing with a check to his watch it couldn't be long now till descent.

\------------------------------

He went to his motel by cab first, shaving, taking a shower and changing. He had been away two weeks and they didn't expect him for today, so he hoped an hour more or less wouldn't make a difference. And, he had no idea how the Matthieson sisters celebrated birthdays, in case there was any kind of celebration or family gathering he wanted to arrive in a presentable shape. The bruise on his upper chest, caused by Allison's bullet, was massive and had turned purple and hurt with every movement and he braced himself for the moment when Carrie would get her eyes on it.

He left with nothing but the the presents for Carrie and Frannie, glad he had given in to that urge last week to buy things for them. It was close to 4 pm Washington time when he finally pulled into the quiet lane where the Matthiesons all lived. He was about to pass Maggie's and Bill's house when he saw some ballons in the yard and a Happy Birthday garland at the Veranda. So they were here.

Afterwards he didn't know why he rang the doorbell instead of just making his way around the house into the garden, but in the end he was glad he hadn't.

Maggie opened the door and her smile was huge when she saw him and gave him a quick hug.

"Peter, you are back! I am so glad."

"Me too, thank you. Is she, are they here?"

Maggie's smile faded away and suddenly she looked worried.

"Maggie, where is Carrie?"

She sighed. "She really did well, and she tried so hard. She's been stable on her meds, we had dinner together every day, she was so happy when you called her last week, and she really tried not to worry too much. She even made me count her pills, just two Xanax in those two weeks, and she saw her therapist twice..."

"Maggie, where is Carrie, could you please just tell me?" He felt his throat tightening.

"We had a BBQ with a couple of neighbors, Virgil and Max joined too, Virgil actually has a new girlfriend and..."

"Maggie, I need to know where Carrie is." He really tried to stay calm but...

"She left about an hour ago, she said, she needed to be alone. She had a nightmare last night, she..." Maggie hesitated, in the light of the day it seemed a bit paranoid and she didn't want to embarass her sister "...dreamt of you being shot in Germany."

"Did she?" Quinn said non-committal, his mind spinning wildly.

"I know, not very likely in Germany, I guess, her fears about what you...once went through got mixed up with the present, it is not her fault, she really fought so hard to keep her stability over the last weeks. But today, she lost it, she was beside herself with worry. I tried to calm her, and she even attended her birthday party but after lunch she couldn't hold to herself anymore. I guess she tried to call you but couldn't reach you and left then, saying she needed time on her own. I am sorry, you know what it is with her condition, it can go both ways."

"Maggie, please, I am not blaming you or Carrie. And I am so sorry that I didn't spare her a day with worries." He didn't want to discuss the contents of Carrie's dream with Maggie, although he was still flabbergasted. And he cursed himself for not getting in contact with her before getting on the plane or at least right after landing, instead of grabbing a shower first.

"She's at home, Frannie's here, I'd assume, she's probably in bed."

"Anything I need to know, in case a depression kicks in?"

Maggie hugged him briefly, once again smitten by his devotion to her sister and his determination to deal with her condition.

"No, nothing you don't know and nothing you are not already doing anyway. Be with her, be patient, give her time to process, I guess seeing you will be the only birthday present she cares for. Frannie is settled here for a sleepover. Text me if you need any help."

\----------------------------------

He let himself into the house, no sound indicated that anybody was here. He didn't want to scare her in case she was sleeping so he moved silently. He found her in the downstairs bedroom, the window blinds were closed, so despite the sunny day outside the room lay in twilight. She was a tiny curled up ball on his side of the bed, clinging to her phone and a crumbled shirt, one of his tees, he figured. Her eyes were closed but from his position in the door he couldn't make out if she was sleeping.

He slowly moved around the bed and kneeled down in front of her. She was indeed sleeping and he could see she had cried, the fabric of his shirt was wet. His heart was about to burst, he was so sorry what she'd been through over those probably last 12 hours and so happy to be back with her. He briefly considered to just let her sleep, if she hadn't slept last night, she needed some rest, but then decided, if he were in her place, he would want to know as soon as possible when she was safely back. And, more selfish, he wanted to be with her, hold her, touch her, talk to her.

He slowly raised his hand and moved a strand of hair from across her face behind her ear, caressing her cheek while doing so.

"Carrie, it's me, I'm back, birthday girl" he whispered. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. He could see that she wasn't fully awake yet and hadn't connected with reality again. 

"Hey, you fell asleep. Maggie told me where to find you. I just came back."

He could pinpoint the moment when the memory of her nightmare kicked back in, her chin quavered and her eyes filled with tears but she didn't move or talk.

"Heyhey, I know and it's ok, now, I am fine. See, I came back in one piece, like brandfucking new. It's okay. I missed you." He cupped her cheek with one hand and she put her hand above his.

He wondered what was the right thing to do, but then decided there was no right or wrong, just intuition. So he climbed the bed behind her and pulled her into a tight embrace. She lay still for a moment and he smelled her hair, sweet and fragant, and felt the warmth of her body against his. Then she wiggled, turned around and threw herself into him. He winced from a throb of pain when she clinged to him but that was fine, as long as he could hold her. 

"Oh god, Quinn, I was so worried."

"I know, Maggie told me. But I am here now."

"I had this horrible dream, Allison shot you, and it felt so real and I was so afraid. I wanted to call you but I couldn't get a connection and then I kind of lost it." She was fully crying now. 

"I was in plane then, coming back here."

"I am sorry. I wanted to be in a better place when you come back."

He pulled back from her to see her face.

"Why the fuck are you sorry? I am sorry for putting you through this but I'd be pretty sad if a nightmare about loosing me would leave you unimpressed. This is not your fault and I should have called you. It was a clusterfuck, last night. I'll tell you later. But let me show you something."

He sat up and opened his shirt, revealing the massive bruise. She gasped for air and sat up. She had seen one of these before, last time on the back of his shoulder. Only then, it had been her, shooting him, last year.

She touched it with her fingertips, carefully tracing its size. "So you were shot but..."

"But I was wearing a vest, of course I did. I know Germany is a dangerous territory, got shot there twice within 24 hours last year..." He tried to sound light. "I always wear a vest on a mission. And this time, I had more reason to return than ever before in my life, so, yes, I underestimated a situation, but nothing happened to me except that one bruise."

"Oh, no shit, Quinn, I was so worried, I thought I was really loosing it."

"You weren't. Your famous instinct was right once again. Which is indeed pretty impressive. And now, come here." He pulled her closer, felt her hand on his naked chest and kissed her, holding himself back and starting slowly, carefully, caressing her back and neck while exploring her lips. It crushed him how much he had missed her and how protective he felt right now.

He was tender and slow with her, took his time to savour her kiss before deepening the kiss. He felt her melting into him.

"Fuck, I missed you" he whispered against her lips.

"Show me" she smiled and he took that as invitation to start unbuttoning her dress while wandering with his mouth down her neck, her collarbone and finally her cleavage. He casted away her dress and gently laid her on her back, lowering himself over her and going on with his tender assaults. She arched her back and pulled him closer and while still nibbeling her neck and flicking with his tongue along her collarbone he moved one hand up to her breasts, starting to fondle them. He could feel her nipples getting hard under his touch. His hands moved quickly behind her back to unclasp her bra. He lowered his mouth and enveloped one of her buds with his lips, lightly sucking and softly nibbling it. Her soft moans told him that worry and pain were forgotten, at least for now. 

She felt how she was healing under his touch. How can I love him so much, how can I miss him so much, I am really in trouble here, she briefly thought, but decided it didn't matter, he was back now. He moved his mouth over to her other nipple and dedicated the same kind of tender care to this bud as well which made her shiver from arousal. She moved her hands down to his belt and started to open it. He stopped his caresses for a second to get rid of his jeans but when he bent over her again to lick and suck her breasts and she moved her hand to slightly graze the thin fabric over his hard-on, he whispered "Not yet, baby, this is only for you, you go first" and took her hand away and pinned her arms with a firm grip around her wrists above her head.

She arched her back, longing for more contact, but he had another idea now. "Close your eyes and don't move an inch, I'll be back in a second" he whispered into her ear. She heard fabric rustling, when he tore the t-shirt she'd been holding onto earlier apart. Then he was back on the bed next to her, using the stripes of fabric to handcuff her wrists above her head. "You tell me, when you want me to stop, don't be afraid, I won't do anything you don't want, keep your eyes closed and just enjoy, birthday girl" he whispered into her ear. She could hear the excitement in his voice and alone the anticipation of what would be coming next made her dripping wet. She felt utterly vulnerable against his strength and lust but that was exciting and arousing and she trusted him completely.

He took it slow now, caressing her breasts with his hands and lips and tongue like they were the most precious things in the world to him. He explored the different sounds he could get from her when sucking and licking her buds, adding grazing teeth or a rubbing thumb. It felt like ages when she finally felt one of his hands moving down her tummy, slowly circeling her navel and then further south. He used his index finger to trace the hem of her panties and she whimpered "Quinn, please..."

"Oh, you are already begging?" She could hear the wicked grin in his husky voice. "I will please you, soon, but not yet. You'll scream and beg for more, I promise."

And with that he tore down her panties, having her displayed now fully naked on the sheets to play with her. His erection was so throbbing hard that it almost hurt but it didn't matter, he would get his own release sooner or later, that was for sure. Now he was going to indulge her, savour every moment with her, and he was well aware what it meant for her, for them, that she laid there completely submissive to his touch and command. Never ever had this happened before, and he had never dared to ask to be allowed to restrain her. Even if it was just a soft tie and she could probably loosen it if she really wanted to, and even he hadn't blindfolded her but just asked her to close her eyes, it was utmost exciting and arousing. She was usually so on-guard and now she devoted herself to him, trusting him in every way. 

He bent over her and started to kiss her again, this time deep and passionate while massaging her buttocks with his hands. He could feel her grinding herself against his erection and pulled back a bit. He left her mouth and trailed down her whole body with kisses, again spending a long time at her breasts and nipples. He could feel her trembling. Slowly one of his hands let go of her ass and moved around her hip, pressing her into the mattress. Then he dipped a finger into her, catching her by surprise. She let out a noise between a whimper and a scream and raised her hips, longing for more contact. He slowly fucked her with that one single finger, not even touching her clit, well aware that this wouldn't be enough to get her over the edge, but to keep her steady close to the brink. She was already dripping wet. When she started to toss her head, he added a second finger but restrained his pace even more. He enjoyed this so much, he could go on forever, seriously, he thought.

"What do you want, Carrie, you have to ask me. I want you to beg and then I'll decide whether I'll please you" he whispered in her ear.

"Quinn, please, I beg, I'll do whatever you want, but please make me come, now."

"I'll take you up on the 'I'll do whatever you want', just wait for it..."

He left his fingers where they were, moved his head down between her legs and started to kiss and lick her clit, adding his tongue for skillful laps. Her body tensed with each flick of his tongue and he knew she was close now, so close. When her breathing increased into a series of rapid moans, he increased the pace and pressure of his tongue and then quickly withdrew his fingers, only to replace them by his tongue, which he drove deep inside her. And that was, when she indeed screamed. Her whole body trembled and each move of his tongue deep inside her released another wave of her orgasm and she called out his name, called to god and he extended her orgasm for as long as possible by replacing his tongue again by his index finger and pressing her G-spot with rhythmic movements. He briefly thought, it was a good thing the windows were closed, because she was screaming the house down.

Finally he felt her muscles relaxing and her breathe slowing down, a tiny whimper every now and then. Her whole body was covered from sweat as she lay boneless on the soaked linen. He got rid of his briefs and brought himself over her, enveloping her small frame with the bulk of his body. She was his, only his, and he just had made her come so hard, she would probably never forget this birthday, he thought with a kind of grim satisfaction. Sometimes it still scared him how possessive he felt about her, but he was quite sure she didn't mind, quite the other way around, he often thought. Most of their love-making was tender and passionate, sometimes wild though, and he couldn't complain about a lack of physical affection, closeness and pleasures, she always accepted him when he reached out for her and desired him as much and often as he wanted her, but she always seemed to get fiercely aroused when he got more dominant every now and then. Maybe we should do that hand tieing thing more often he thought, the sheer thought of it gave him a shiver down his spine.

But now he wanted her to be in his arms and wanted her to hold him while making love to her. And he knew how lucky he was that she would understand this, how he could go from possessive and dominant in one second to mad romantic and weak, desperatly needing her, in the next. She, the only one who would ever know and understand his real me. He shifted his weight to one ellbow, careful not to crush her, and stretched one arm above her head to untie her. She immediatly brought her arms around him and caressed his nape and shoulders.

"Now it's your turn. What do you want?"she whispered, pliant against his body, her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Just you, just you. I missed you, I can't tell you how much." She pulled him closer and kissed him as he slowly began to move himself into her. She welcomed him, using her heels to press him deeper and slowly started rocking her hips when he was buried deep inside her. He took his time, moved with slow, long thrust in and back, while she caressed his back, his nape and kissed him long and tender. He felt his orgasm building up, slowly, but massive, and knew it would be intense, but before his release he wanted to savour every single second with her, inside her. Apart from soft moans and increased breathing they were silent but their eyes were locked, holding each other's gaze, an intense, wordless, deep connection. The slow bout gave her time to recover from the extraordinary pleasure he had given her before and he felt her pussy regaining tension and working his shaft. And he could see the lust in her eyes. She started to raise and to rock her hips against his while slowly increasing the speed of her movements. He let out a groan, she knew all too well how to get him to the edge.

"I love you, you know that, do you? There will never be anyone else, just you, I love you." She still hold his gaze, her eyes locked to his and smiled at his declaration of love, tears welling up in her eyes. But that was ok, he knew by now that it happened every now and then, when her feelings were overwhelming her. He brought his lips to her eyes and kissed the tears away. She increased the pace of her movements a bit more, governing his speed now. He felt her hands wandering down his back, firm pressure on his buttocks and then a questing, softly caressing finger at his anus. She searched for approval in his eyes and the groan which he let out seemed to be enough encouragement because carefully she slipped the tip of her finger inside, moving it there in small circles, just a fraction of a millimeter deeper with each round. He lost his focal vision, everything blurred, conciousness lost and gone, all he could do was slamming himself into her with a couple of irregular, deep and uncontrolled thrusts, the overwhelming sensations from the different ways of stimulation crushing down on him. He felt himself exploding into her just seconds later, heard someone making an almost non-human groan, crying out her name, probably he himself, and while his orgasm came wave after wave he felt her coming again, clenching around his shaft. Somehow he had collapsed into her while his intense climax, laying now onto her with his full weight but he couldn't move, couldn't hear, couldn't talk, could just feel the sheer bliss and try to not forget to breathe.

She held out his bulk for quite a while but finally he felt her wiggling beneath him and took the effort to shift himself next to her and to pull her close to him. Her head laid on his shoulder, his arm around her back and their legs were entwined and they laid still for a long while, enjoying the afterglow of their reunion. This, he thought, this I wished it would last forever.

He was about to drift off when he felt her vibrating. It took him a second to realize she was giggling.

"What's so funny?"

"Your stomach is rumbling, are you hungry?"

Suddenly he remembered it was her birthday. Where were his manners? Honestly he had no idea about how to really celebrate a birthday, that had never been part of his lifestyle, at least not within the last thirty plus something years but he was aware that falling asleep after sex probably wasn't the way to do it right.

"Uhm, yes, it's been a while...what time is it?"

"Around 8 pm, I guess."

"Shall we go out for dinner? You choose, as it's your birthday?"

"Actually, you know what I'd really like to do? Stay here, with you, order pizza, have a bottle of wine."

"But...is that enough? I mean..." His voice trailed off.

Only then it began to dawn on her, and she thought, he is so heartbreakingly adorable. She pulled him in closer. "How can this not be enough? I am with the man I love, who happens to be my best friend too, who was away for two weeks and came back for my birthday. I don't need anything, certainly not going out tonight. I just want to be with you, hear everything about your trip, learn about the trouble that got you that bruise, stuff some pizza into me and if you are not too tired..."

He was still not convinced. "You're sure? I thought I should take you out tonight. But I have no idea what you want or usually do for birthdays." The sensed the worry in his voice.

"Quinn, my last birthdays have either been with my father and Maggie, then two in Germany, and one in Kabul. That year my team gave me a cake with "Happy Birthday, dronequeen" written on it in icing. You think any of this made me more happy than today, than this?" He chuckled about the dronequeen cake. "The only thing that worries me is that at least one of us has to get up and dressed to order the pizza and to receive it at the door."

"Oh, I could volunteer to do that. Also we might get the pizza for free if you open the door naked..." She hit his butt and kissed him. "I'll get up too, I am overdue for a shower, there's some wine in the kitchen. We could sit in the garden, it's been a sunny day."

He called the take away for pizza and sneaked into the bathroom to join her for a quick shower, placing the little box with her present on the chest of drawers before he went into the bathroom. He deplored he already had called the restaurant because the delivery guy would be here now in no time, otherwise he would certainly had an idea how to make most of the time under the warm spray.

He followed her when she walked naked back into the bedroom to get dressed and put his hands on her shoulders. "Close your eyes." She did as she was told and he opened the box and put the necklace around her neck and carefully closed it. He had chosen a delicate chain with a darkblue saphire in a simple, round platinum pendant, which was a match to the colour of her eyes. He had bought a matching ring - oddly enough the conversation with Astrid had brought that on - but that would be another day, this was something which was not going to happen naked in their bedroom, and he needed some time to get the right words ready in his mind, but he would ask her, he was sure of that.

She opened her eyes, met his gaze in the mirror and then saw the necklace. Her eyes filled with tears when she turned around.

"Quinn, this is beautiful, so beautiful. Thank you! But you shouldn't, you didn't need to..."

"But I wanted to" he interrupted her. "You deserve all the beauty in the world, and I never gave you anything, so it was about time."

He stroke away a tear on her cheek with his thumb when he pulled her close and kissed her. "You know, I never got any jewellery except a necklace my dad gave me for my highschool graduation. So this feels indeed very special."

"Even better," he smiled "honestly I wouldn't like the thought of anybody else than me giving you jewellery in the future. You are mine now." Despite his smile, she knew he was serious. But she didn't mind, actually it felt quite good to be so wanted, so desired, so loved and him being so possessive about her was just part of that package.

He was just about to suggest something else than getting dressed when the doorbell rang. "Shit, the pizza guy..."

"Well, as I guess you'd hate the thought of me opening naked except of a necklace, I assume you volunteer and go..."

He jumped into his jeans and shirt and made his way to the door, while she got dressed, just yogapants but a white shirt with v-neck, she wanted him to see his present on her. She was still touched by his present, never had she him expected to be someone who actually would pick jewellery matching the colour of her eyes...always one for surprises...she briefly thought back to those angstfilled days around christmas and the ground they had covered since then, and that was nothing but a fucking beautiful miracle, maybe they should celebrate that sooner or later too.

They sat in the garden, she wanted to eat her pizza straight out of the container but he insisted on setting the table and lightening a candle.

After they had finished and shared a cigarette, she put her legs on his lap and he massaged her feet, while telling her about his time in Germany. She didn't interrupt, just listened, amazed by the idea to connect Hussein with Astrid, concerned about his attempts to get Allison out of cover, pleased about how well he and Otto got along, worried when he spoke about Saul and his rage about Allison. It was long after midnight when he finally summed up his last 40 hours in Germany, starting with the night in the bar, identifying Allison's russian contact, Düring's dinner party, Saul getting kind of kidnapped and the events on the nightly country-road close to the polish border which ended in Allison's death.

The candle was the only light left and his face laid in the shadow but she heard the pain about Allison's fate in his voice. He took a deep sigh, coming to the most difficult part to tell.

"You know, I was so determined not to kill any more, that I really don't know if I made the right call there. I was convinced that I could take her out of the game with one calculated shot without killing her. I've been trained for stuff like this. I never failed."

"I know. You shot me. And you knocked me out in the woods."

He winced at the memory but she hadn't meant it as offence but as reassurance and he got that, but still...

"But she managed to keep her ground. The open door of the car probably supported her and she switched the weapon to her left hand and was about to aim again. Dar took the shot then. I still don't think it needed to be a fatal one but he obviously thought differently. The thing is, I don't know if it was just to prevent me getting hurt or worse or if he would have killed her anyway because of what she did. And I want to believe, that even if she had a chance to shoot me again, I would have been protected enough by my vest, that showing mercy for once was the right thing."

"Well, about Dar, you'll probably never know. Maybe he doesn't know either. Maybe he likes the thought he did it for you. And I am glad, Allison didn't fire again. But chances are, with her left hand and a hurt shoulder, her bullet wouldn't even had hit you. But the important thing is, you didn't do it. You had a choice to make and you chose to not take her life. And the rest is not your responsibility. As tough as it is. Allison obviously made her choice long ago, and I am sure there is more to it than we know right now, and she must have been aware what the risks were which were tight to this. You can't betray the CIA for over a decade and kind of hope to get away with it. Look at the shit, you had to do to just leave the group, not even the CIA as organization. And you always were open with Dar about your doubts. So, if she decided to bed herself with the Russians, she must have known the outcome could be nothing else but a desaster in the end. This was her choice, not yours. You were willing to show mercy were most of us would not have considered mercy. I agree, it is kind of an odd turn of events that Dar took the shot while you were down but don't allow this to be on your list, please."

She raised and sat down on his lap.

"You did what you could there. And as far as I get it, it was mostly you who drew the right conclusions. A mole for the Russians for over ten years. Quinn, this is huge. And we will probably never know all about it but I bet this will cause some rumour within the agency and some stones will need to turned over the coming months. Shit, can you imagine that? The Russians, more than a decade. And Allison has been a high rank senior for at least four of those years. And you caught her. This is fucking incredible."

He was still not convinced, she could see that. 

"You know, when I saw Saul bending over her and holding her, and I am sure she was already dead by then, I asked myself what justifies the damage we do, even if we try to do the right things. Even me, who had a very personal reason to hate her and to want revenge. And I just could walk away, I couldn't stay, I just could walk away."

"And Dar was ok with that? He let you leave before debrief?"

He sighed. "Actually he suggested it, debrief's Wednesday morning at Langley. He was...quite supportive, saying I might need a break. Well, in his words. And, as much I hate it, he was the one mentioning your birthday. And then Otto, too." So it was out now. He held his breath.

But once again she surprised him, because she started laughing, genuine and heartfelt. "This is so dark it is indeed really funny. After all the shit you've been through for this little fucker, he finally expresses his feelings for you by sending you home for my birthday, didn't expect him to have such a sappy, sentimental side. As long as you don't expect me to thank him I'll just think god or whoever up there has a very black sense of humour. And, I am kind of relieved, because if you had known my birthday without a hint you'd probably sneaked into my files at HR or into my purse - or be superhuman, because I knew for sure we never spoke about the date before. And I am glad that there is a very normal explaination now."

He was relieved. "Actually, there's more. He said my mother would be proud of me for finally leaving the group and having someone to go home to."

"Oh, Quinn, this is..." She adjusted herself on his lap to cup his face and kiss him. "I bet she would. But I bet she would love you anyway, for what you are. And so do I. And I am indeed very proud of you."

Dar Adal, she thought, who would have ever thought, not in a week full of Sundays, but obviously for once she had been wrong here. Who knows whom he lost on his way and what brought up this almost human touch in him.

"You said, Otto? How did he end up there?"

"I guess, he favours spy novels and took the chance to be close to one." Quinn deadpanned. "Actually, I guess, he casted an eye on Astrid. And when we had to leave his party in a rush, right after Allison and Saul had left - remember, he was the one who revealed their secret relationship and the bystander behind the curtain - he kind of did the math and just followed us. BND got on his heels before things got tense and didn't let him closer but he was kind and generous enough not only to drive me back to Berlin but to put me in his own plane and fly me over here. Honestly, I guess, more for your sake than for mine, and because he was looking for a chance to gather a bit information about Astrid."

"Wow, what a story...Otto as male equivalent of Moneypenny and finally seeking for a love interest " she giggled "but I am glad he brought you home."

She saw how tired he was, time difference given he was kind of up all night now. "You know what, I'll just text Maggie to drop Frannie at daycare tomorrow and leave a message for the office I'm not coming in tomorrow. Let's sleep in and then I bet Frannie will be over the moon to see you in the afternoon, she's been asking for you every day. I'll see you upstairs in a few."

He had already collapsed when she came upstairs, so she undressed him and herself, snuggled into him and pulled a blanket over both of them.

He wrapped his arms around her when he sensed her presence and muttered some words, she couldn't quite understand. But she whispered into his ear "You know what, this was the best birthday I ever had."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They just needed it after five (!) chapters apart from each other. The story won't end here and Quinn will return to being a bit more edgy, but after two weeks away, they deserved some peace. And we do, too.
> 
> As always, thanks for comments and feedback, I am always happy about these.


	37. Summer

The following weeks were the most peaceful time they ever had had. Quinn started to work as analyst in Saul's team, they even reported their relationship officially to HR, and while he still kept that motel room for reasons unknown to himself, he was nearly never there. Sometimes they took turns in dropping and collecting Frannie, although Carrie said the teachers liked Quinn better as they all had a crush on him, sometimes they drove all together in one car. They had decided not to go away on a vacation, too much was going on at work, especially Quinn was busy handling and evaluating the intel Hussein and the surveillance of the jihadist cell in Berlin were providing, frequently dealing with the BND and Astrid in particular. Carrie liked to see him happy and engaged with his work, although she sometimes still found it difficult that Astrid was in the picture. But apparently she and Otto were seeing each other, at least Otto had indeed called her and announced he'd be in DC in August and had made some hints about somebody travelling with him.

The other reason for not going on vacation together was more complicated and they didn't speak about it. Carrie wasn't sure how much family life Quinn could endure without a break. Since he was back from Berlin he really had made an effort to proof his stable presence in her and Frannie's life, very rarely disappearing to his motel or sometimes for a long run at night. A couple of times he had worked all night, at least that's what he had said, but she had smelled the booze the next morning. He never said anything, but she saw that his new life was still challenging for him. Sometimes she caught him watching Frannie with a terrible sentimental streak in his eyes. But they never spoke about his son. He had made it very clear, that despite their constantly growing intimacy and closeness there were two topics never to mention: his time in Syria and his son. So far she had accepted these rules. Sometimes she noticed him being restless and antsy, and figured he was missing a real adrenalin-driven challenge in his life - buying groceries only gets so exciting, she thought. But she had had to learn that too, three years ago and overall, they were doing good. But she felt that maybe two weeks non-stop with her and Frannie, without the breaks his work provided him, might just be too much. And she was fine with that - for someone who had basically claimed himself to be unfit as a parent, he got along very well with Frannie and her nieces, and there was no rush. Given that their relationship had just began less than six months ago, they'd come quite far.

But Carrie took Frannie and her nieces to the cabin for two weeks, giving Maggie a rest and time for a week away just for her and Bill - and Quinn joined them for the weekends. Silently he had feared being with her in Brody-Land, but was surprised when these memories weren't anything but very distant memories from a long ago past, not overshadowing the present at all, just memories. He spent a lot of time swimming and splashing with the girls, trying to teach Frannie how to swim and in the evenings the grilled sausages, marshmellows and stickbread. If this is how normal is, he thought, I guess I might actually be able to do it.

The nights were certainly his favourites, when the girls were settled to sleep (which got harder with the elder ones, he noticed, he had to read lot of long bedtime stories, whereas Carrie said they were wrapping him around her little fingers and he was too easy to play for them), he and Carrie sat outside by the fire or went for a nightly swim, just the two of them. They didn't dare any lovemaking inside the cabin with three sleeping children around but the nights were not too cold so they got some blankets and cushions outside and used the lake side gazebo as their love-nest. When he had to leave early on monday mornings she got up with him, they shared a cup of coffee by the lake and went for a last swim together and stopped where the water was still not too deep so he could still stand. She wrapped her legs around his waist and the gentle lovemaking in the silent, early hours of the morning was their good-bye until next Friday.

He never mentioned to her that he'd watched her and Brody here. Sometimes the past should be just the past, he thought, and she probably had her own secrets too, like for instance how she'd escaped Nazir out of a what could and should have been probably a near death-situation. Strangely enough Walden had died the same afternoon and he had never forgotten this co-incidence. But again, this was the past and it was behind them.

\-------------------------------

They both still had nightmares, Quinn more often. He figured they'd never stop completely, he would just have to learn to live with them. Most of those nights she woke up before him and hold him and talked to him until the shadows of the darkness disappeared. Sometimes he cried during those nights, in her arms, but this was another thing never to be mentioned during daytime. He never told her what his dreams were about, but over the time being she had gained some insight from what he muttered or screamed before he woke up. 

It was rare but it happened that he woke up from a nightmare, panic-soaked and restless, and she hadn't heard him. He let her sleep then as it felt too pathetic to wake her up, like a toddler who needed his mummy at night. Those nights were the worst. Usually he got up then, unable to find sleep again, wandering through the silent house, trying to find some peace. Usually he ended up with a bottle of whiskey in one of the garden chairs, waiting for the morning to come. He thought a lot about his son in those nights, and he knew he should talk to her, go back to bed, wake her up, whatever, but not sit alone in the dark getting drunk. Twice she found him shitfaced and asleep there in the morning and her anger and hurt were probably worse than the nightmare which had brought him out there. After the second time -she had woken him up with a glass of cold water into his face - she made a point in collecting every bottle in the house containing anything stronger than beer or wine and ditching them into the trash can. Afterwards she locked herself in the bathroom and he heard her crying, knowing he was really a dick. He softly knocked at the door, well aware it would take some time before she would open it. She hated being weak.

"Carrie, please..,"

"Don't 'Carrie' me."

"Just open the door."

"Well, it's just a bathroom door, people sometimes do close these. But you lock me out for real."

"Just open the door, please."

"It's not that you seemed too eager to talk to me, earlier. So why now?"

"Open the fucking door and I'll try to explain."

A click indicated that she had unlocked the door but she didn't open it. She wouldn't give in more than she already did, he knew. So he pushed it open. She sat at the corner of the bath tub, tears on her cheeks, but angry, and had a vial in her hand. When he came in, she threw it against it chest.

"Count them."

"Carrie, I know, this is not about you. It's about me. And I don't need to check your meds, I know, you are taking them."

"You don't know anything. Count them."

He checked the label, it was Xanax, there were two pills left in the vial and it was still the same she had used before he went to Berlin. He knew where they were heading and she was fucking right.

"I had four left when you left for Berlin, I took two while you were away, which I told you and I haven't touched them since then. Not because I didn't have nightmares, no, because you asked me not to take them anymore but to rely on you to help me."

"Yeah, you are right."

"Of course I am right. When it's about shit like this, I am always right. Quinn, I can't have you sitting shitfaced in the garden or house in the morning, just because you are to proud to ask for help. What if Frannie founds you, or worse, one of your bottles, while you are still passed out?"

Honestly, he hadn't thought about that yet. He didn't know what to say, and when he spoke he knew he had decided for the wrong approach. "I can spend more nights away, if it's that what you want."

"Fuck, Quinn, one step forward, two steps backwards, will it always be like this? I don't want you to spend your nights alone and get drunk or worse alone, I want you to wake me up when you need me and I don't hear you right away."

He looked to the floor and muttered something she didn't understand.

"What was that?"

"You need your sleep. And I should be able to deal with them alone, at least every now and then."

Finally she felt her anger vanish, just sorrow and sympathy were still filling her heart. She got up, leant against his chest and pulled him close. He hesitated a moment but then his arms went up around her shoulders and she felt his chin on her head.

"Remember, we are in this together. I know your shit and you know mine. And we are there for each other, regardless of matters of day- or nighttime or convenience. You can wake me up any time, ask me for anything you need, but I don't wanna find you unconcious in the garden. I haven't been through all that shit with you to loose you again - nor to booze, neither to depression."

He didn't answer but his arms tightened around her. She knew it still cost him a lot to show weakness, even after all those months. And she understood, because she sometimes still felt the same.

"What about if you take a shower now and I make you coffee and eggs with bacon? Frannie will be up any minute."

"Don't set the kitchen on fire" he deadpanned.

She slapped his ass and was out. 

The thing was, sometimes he really wanted to tell her more, about Syria and about his son. But at the same time he was afraid what the outcome might be. He had sworn to himself never to speak to anybody about his last time in Syria but the longer he was back amongst the living the more he longed for closure. Somehow these memories needed release and he knew she was the only person he could ever tell. But that made it so fucking difficult because he was afraid to burden her with that as well as afraid it might change something between them. And drinking himself into a stupor at least had no other consequences than a bad headache, nothing he couldn't handle.

He took a cold shower, he deserved it, and joined her in the kitchen. The bacon was slightly burned but he appreciated her efforts to make him feel better. When she handed him his cup of coffee he pulled her close to kiss her. "How come I deserve you and you still haven't got enough of me?"

"Well, as you said, you are pretty likeable. And..." she was serious now "...when I found you last winter in Germany, I swore to myself I would never give up on you again, as long as you want me to be with you."

\-------------------------------

Every now and then he met Rob for a beer now, when Rob was in town and not on a mission. They had started that when Rob had stopped by to bring him his jacket and phone. Usually they didn't talk a lot about the past but Quinn knew from weeks and months they had been travelling together that Rob - like all the other guys as well - had his share of nightmares too. They just never commented on these, they were non-existent the next morning.

But when he saw Rob the next time, he asked him out of the blue if he ever spoke with anyone about his nightmares and fears.

"That's a strange question, after being 15 years in yourself. Do you talk about it?"

"Don't know. Not until now. But..."

"That Carrie-girl of yours keeps asking?"

"No, quite the opposite. I want to tell her, but I am not sure if it is the right thing to do."

"Helen filed in for divorce." 

That was quite a surprise. "When and why? Couldn't stand the constant danger and travel anymore?"

"No, she was used to that. But she said even if I was home I wasn't and she could manage to be alone long stretches of time but not being alone when I am actually home but don't open up."

"I am sorry to hear this."

"Don't be. It's a choice I made. And you obviously made a different one, leaving the group and all that. But you shouldn't stop halfway now if it's really serious."

"It is."

"I thought so. You've been calling her name in your dreams for years."

\-------------------------------------

They still went out on dates, Maggie was a constant supporter for their grown up-time as she called it. Usually Frannie slept over once a week and they went out for those nights. They never met with anybody else, these evenings belonged to them. They went to the movies, had dinner, went to jazz bars and concerts, sometimes even to a museum when Carrie was interested in an exhibition. He was happy with whatever she liked as he loved getting to know her better and study her expressions when she was listening to music or studying a painting.

He loved Frannie, he really did. But coming home those nights was...well, different than other nights. They were never shy when it was about the physical pleasures in their relationship but Carrie had made a strict point that she didn't want Frannie to hear them or watch them by accident. He didn't mind, sex was still great then, and he liked their slow, silent bouts in the bed or under the shower as much as anything else, but when Frannie was not around, there were more...options...and she was different too.  
She liked seducing him, he knew that, not that he needed being seduced, as if he'd ever say no to her, but on some of those date nights she already started in the car on the way home to play with him, placing her hand on his thigh or worse (or better, depends on the way you look at it, pleasure or safe driving, he thought) or leaning over and whispering in his ear what she wanted to do with him later home or already starting to unbuttoning her dress or blouse, just far enough down to give him a very decent view of what to expect.  
Once or twice they only made it inside the house and he had her right there, in the hallway, against the wall or leaning against the kitchen counter.  
Another night she started undressing herself while walking upstairs with a seductive swing of her hips, and although he knew she was just playing with him, he found it unbelievable arousing to watch her slowly getting naked, for him, while he was still fully dressed.  
It was that night when she asked him to tie her again and to blindfold her. They were leaning against the wall in the upstairs bedroom, she was naked, he was still dressed, they were kissing while he had pinned both of her wrists against the wall and ground himself into her.  
He hadn't forgotten the unbelievable intense night of her birthday but they hadn't repeated neither of their experiences since then and alone the memory of it let him nearly loose his mind.

And it was indeed unbelievable again, her body, completely helpless under his control, how he could toy with her, carress her, arouse her, bring her close to the edge and then just wait until she begged, surprise her, completely up to him to dictate the pace and intensity. And she seemed to enjoy every second of it, he made sure of that, carefully paying attention to her sounds and any sign of discomfort. This time, it was not just his fingers and tongue inside her, he was really and truely about to loose his mind and needed to fill her with himself. He forced himself to take it slow, to give her time to notice what he was about to do and to say no if she didn't want it while she was restrained and blindfolded.

"Do you want this? I can untie you if you want." He was hoping for her consent, he really was.

She let out a kind of frustrated groan. "Please, Quinn, I am gonna scream and beg, do what you want, but I want you now, I need you inside me, please." And he was happy to obey and done taking it slow.

Afterwards he loosened the tie and took away the blindfold, cradling her in his arms and enjoying her caressing hands on his shoulders and back. 

"Do you want me to do the same with you? I really like it and if you wanna try too..."

He was silent for a while, knowing that if he ever would talk to her about Syria, this would probably the moment. She sensed the changed atmosphere and pulled back a bit, trying to read his face.

"Hey, you are ok? You don't need to, I just thought..."

"No, it's not that I don't want to...it's just, I think I can't..." His voice trailed off. She had no idea where they were heading to, so she just went on caressing his shoulders and pulled him a bit closer.

"You remember in winter, when you said, I could tell you, if I ever wanted to?"

Now she knew what he was talking about and her heart suddenly weighed heavy. She didn't dare to move nor to sigh. She just kept holding him. "Yeah, I remember. And I really meant it. I still do, in fact."

"You sure?"

"I am."

And that was when he told her. Not everything, he just couldn't, but most of it. It was painful, for both of them, but she fought hard to keep her composure, to swallow her tears and not to interrupt or argue when his weak self-worth was telling her, it was all his own fault and he deserved it. She just laid still next to him, holding him as close as she could, carefully managing to keep her breath even and not to let out her own feelings while he told her about his suffering and torture in Syria.

She knew he was baring his soul to her and she would probably never see him again this raw and vulnerable and she loved him even more for his ability to push himself through this. He must have thought about this, fought against the urge, for weeks and months. But she knew at the same time that he didn't want, couldn't stand probably, her pity, that was not why he was finally opening up. The memories needed release, he needed some kind of closure, and he had choosen her. And her role was nor to comfort and console him, neither to discuss his feelings about these weeks and months with him, her role was to listen and to share the burden which was to heavy for him alone to carry.

He took her to places far beyond humanity and twice she thought she was about to loose it for real, and just his steady presence next to her and the thought that he had actually been there while she was only hearing about it in the security of her bedroom and his embrace made her persevere. That, and the determination to proof him she was worth his trust in her.

He talked for long stretches of time and was silent, unable to speak, for long periods. But she knew he wasn't done yet and so she just kept on holding him, drawing what she hoped soothing circles on his back to remind him she was still there, willing to hear it all. He knew what he was doing to her, and felt bad for being that selfish, but once he had started there was no way to stop now halfway, as painful as it was. His heart nearly broke feeling how determined she was to support him through this, to keep her composure, to hold him and to go all the way with him.

He had no idea how long he had talked, it felt like the darkest hour of the night, when he finally finished.

"Now you know."

"Now I know."

"Still ok?"

"Still ok, I told you, I can take it."

"I am sorry anyway, for what it's worth it."

"Don't be. I am glad you told me."

"Will it change anything?"

"Do you want it to change anything?"

"Fuck, no."

"Well, then it won't. Fuck, Quinn, this is just who you are and you didn't choose this to happen. And you came back, still you. And I love you. And this is just who I am, I can't stop loving you and I never will, now that I finally know and let it happen. Oh god, Quinn, I was so late to the party. I should have allowed myself to love you earlier."

"I wouldn't have made it back if not for you."

There was nothing she could answer to that, so she just pulled back a bit to see his eyes. He looked calm and steady, his breath was even and he wasn't shaking anymore, as he had before, while he was telling her. Somehow it had really done something good to finally tell her. She wasn't sure though what to do next but then just gave in to her urge to kiss him. He was relieved, his heart lightened and he received her kiss fondly and expectantly. They took their time, in a way it felt like a first kiss, tender and exploring. She felt him getting aroused, longing for more and brought herself up to mount him. 

"You sure?"

He nodded, his eyes dark form yearning and desire.

"Then let me make love to you, this time." And she did, slowly, carefully, helping him to heal and to cure the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is still not the end, now as they finally have managed to talk about Syria, there is just one issue left, but that's huge: his son and his related parenting issues.


	38. Otto and Astrid

Sleep didn't found him easily that night but that was ok. Still he felt better as a lot of nights before. Exhausted, worn and spent, both physically and emotionally, but in a way like he had finally ripped of an unsuitable small bandaid from a hastily covered wound to apply more suitable and longterm measurements, so that the healing could begin. Tearing it off hurt but it was the only way to get better.

He was still worried that he had to burden her with those memories, but who else if not her? After she had made love to him, sweet and gentle and very slow, she had curled up on his chest, let out a soft whimper and had fallen asleep there, one ear placed over his heartbeat, probably needing this constant reassurance of him being there, one hand tucked into his hand. She still laid there, he couldn't muster the energy to move her away, even if his joints were yearning for a stretch and some movement. If she needed to be this close after what he'd put her through it was the least he could do.

In a way this was nothing short than a fucking miracle, he thought, not for the first time. After all those years, after all that misery, they were finally together, still figuring out how to deal with their shit, but together and into something good. He briefly thought back to those nights in Islamabad when he'd laid alone in his bed, longing for her, while she had been just on the other side of the wall. How often had he got up and been half on his way to the door, to finally go over and tell her, only to stop then, not bringing up the courage to face the dronequeen's rejection. And now, though her core was still the same, brave, strong and fierce, he had her in every possible way, only that her personality was much more loving and caring than he ever had dared to hope for. But only for the better, he wouldn't wanna change her.

Finally sleep claimed him too but he was the first one to be awake again after a couple of hours. He scuttled gingerly out of the bed and busied himself with making breakfast. She just woke up when he came back with the tray, pale but calm.

"Good morning, beautiful. How are you?"

She gave him a smile, weak but genuine. "Good. And you?"

He put the tray on the matress, sat down next to her and pulled her in an embrace. "I am good. Much better than I thought I'd ever be again. Thank you."

They had breakfast in bed and he suggested to take Frannie and her nieces to the zoo that day. "I still owe Frannie another visit there. Or are Ruby and Josie too old to enjoy such things?"

"No, they'll love it. But I need a shower first."

He smiled down at her. "That's what I was hoping for. I'll join you."

\--------------------------

That evening Carrie received a call from Otto Düring, telling her he would be in DC next week and would like to meet her as well as Peter. Carrie had conflicting emotions about a part of her german life suddenly becoming so present in her new life now. She liked Otto, a lot, both for professional and personal reasons. Working for him had been good, challenging, demanding, yet inspiring and his views on the world and the causes of crises and poverty had been a welcome opposite to what a lot of her colleagues within the agency believed. Working with him had been a great part of becoming human again after Kabul and Islamabad. But, Germany had been her time with Jonas, whom she had met through Otto. Germany had also been the thread to her life, things had gotten in motion back then because Laura Sutton, another co-worker at the foundation, had released the hacked CIA documents and Allison had thought Carrie had seen them. Which had been wrong and she had never liked Laura, neither before nor after. The journalist had been so full of herself, a real pain in the ass. But Jonas had liked her and had liked to work with her, had called her a friend. Alone this should have told me we weren't meant to last, she thought with a grim smile.  
Germany had brought Quinn back to her, under the oddest of circumstances. And in those angst-filled days last summer Otto had been one of the very few persons she could rely on and had helped her in every possible way.

And Otto announced he was going to travel with Astrid, although he hadn't given a hint about the nature of this arrangement. Carrie hoped for very selfish reasons that those two were together now, she hadn't forgotten the air of arrogance of the tall and stern blond woman who apparently hadn't thought highly of her, neither in Islamabad nor in Berlin. She couldn't even blame her for this because both times she clearly hadn't been at her best, each time desperate because of Quinn's current whereabouts. But, whereas she usually didn't give a shit about what people might think about her, this was different.

She knew Quinn and she went back quite some time, she had once mentioned Copenhagen 2008, and it had been obvious that she cared deeply about Quinn, stretching the boundaries of what she was allowed to do and know, given her job at the BND, more than once. She knew as well that Quinn never had been into any romantic emotional involvement with her other than a trusted friendship...unfortunately one with benefits and she was pretty sure he'd indulged those benefits quite frequently when he and Astrid had happened to be in the same city, like in Islamabad. Maybe Berlin last summer too, who knows? And she had no right to be jealous about his past, not at all, heavens, they had met when she was hooked up with Brody and there had been other men, too, but still...she felt a gnawing hint of jealousy.

Quinn reacted with a shrug of his shoulders when she told him about the upcoming visit, kind if had expected it, he said, as both Otto and Astrid had announced it several times. He provided some more information when he came to see her for lunch two days later at the office, Astrid had emailed him she'd be in DC for five days, asking him and Saul for a joint meeting at Langley and Quinn alone for lunch or dinner and "not only couples' night" - at least that was how she put it but he didn't quote that when talking to Carrie.

Carrie felt antsy about the visit and stupid about feeling antsy, she knew she had absolutely no reason to be jealous, Quinn had been at his best for weeks now and even when he had seen Astrid in Germany a few weeks ago, she had had no reason to doubt him. But still, she was nervous.

Carrie had never been one for classic girlie stuff when it came to dating, but this time she decided to make an effort and made an appointment with the hairdresser and decided to treat herself with a new dress. And new underwear. And maybe new shoes. She asked Maggie if she could take Frannie one afternoon and when her sister was surprised because usually Quinn handled Frannie when Carrie had to work longer she took a deep sigh.

"My ex-boss and Quinn's ex-girlfriend are coming for a visit."

"What a strange co-incidence." Maggie wondered.

"No, not exactly, Astrid, that's her, is German, working with their agency. They are coming together, not by co-incidence but by purpose. I even sense some mutual attraction between them. But on the other hand, she never liked me, but I can tell, she always liked Quinn very much."

"Maybe, that's why she didn't like you back then, because when I first met him three and half years ago I found it quite obvious how he felt about you", Maggie stated matter-of-factly.

Carrie made a non-committal sound, still not happy with the situation. She was not good in doing social things like smalltalk at dinners, and there was a reason she had no female friends for hanging out, chitchat and the usual stuff, which most women apparently liked to do with their girlfriends. And she and Quinn never went out with other people, not counting family dinners with Maggie and Bill of course, but that was homezone. Carrie hated to feel awkward and the prospect of a dinner with Astrid and Otto was clearly unknown ground to her. Jeez, she didn't want Astrid to think strangely of her, but she was just so bad at those things.

So she wanted to be prepared, Quinn shouldn't feel awkward when taking his crazy girlfriend to a dinner with his ex. She wouldn't go so far to rehearse smalltalk with Maggie, but at least she would make a real effort to look very nice.

The week passed quickly and although she had not known when they'd exactly arrive she was surprised when Quinn announced one evening he would meet Astrid for dinner the next day and the day after would be dinner with Astrid and Otto. She played cool, he was just going out with a friend and colleague, no reason to fuss around. But still it didn't feel good. She was very close to tell him at night in bed, after he had loved her and she laid in his arms, but then it felt so stupid, so she dropped it. 

When she left the office early the next day she saw him and Astrid looking through some documents in his office but she didn't go in, because she had no idea what to say. And those two seemed in a good mood, Quinn was smiling while Astrid pointed onto a piece of paper and he leant over to see what she was looking at. Carrie reminded briefly how much she had liked working with him, how sharp and ironic his comments were and how often she had had to laugh about something he had said in their very early days of working together. 

Frannie was with Maggie and she went downtown, got her hair cut, not too much, but visible, she liked the volume it suddenly had, bought herself some new makeup, a new dress and - remembering the one phonecall from Berlin - darkblue lingerie and a silk underdress, darkblue too.

When Frannie was in bed, she dressed up and practised with her new makeup, trying not to keep an eye on the watch and not to wonder if and when he'd be home, although he hadn't been to the motel for more than two weeks, and never stayed just away but usually called or texted her. But with Astrid around...No, she she scolded herself in her mind, she wouldn't start that spiral now.

Suddenly he leant in the open bathroom door, still in his workclothes, crumpled shirt as usual, hair tossled, a shadow of stubbles around his mouth and chin. He watched her silently, scanning her from head to toe.

"Jeez, Quinn, why are you sneaking in like a silent intruder? People sometimes do knock the door before they enter the occupied bathroom."

"Afraid I'd catch you by surprise? Don't want me to see what you're doing?"

She didn't like his undertone.

"Are you planning on going out tonight? A bit late, I'd say."

"No, why?"

She saw him through the mirrow gesturing at her dress.

"It's new, isn't it? And you cut your hair. And the make-up. You certainly made an effort, I'd say."

"Well, you weren't around and I had to keep myself busy. And my wardrobe is a bit understocked anyway."

"I never complained. So, if not for tonight - tomorrow, seeing Otto, huh? Dressing up for him? He likes fancy stuff and heels and all this?" His voice was dangerously even, his eyes dark.

"No. Or yes. Or I don't know. But you will be there too. And Astrid" she added quietly, avoiding his gaze by looking down to her hands.

It hit him just then, his face visibly softened. "Carrie. Carrie, look at me." She didn't look up. "Carrie, what is it?" He moved behind her, hands on her shoulders and waited for her to look up and meet his eyes in the mirror. "Are you jeaulous?"

"No...It's just, I saw you in the office today, with her. And you were discussing something and it felt like you two were having a good time together and like you are good at this...meeting with friends or ex affairs thing...and I am not." Her voice broke.

"How come you think so?"

She sighed.  
"Quinn, I go for coffee with my sister, for dinners or drinks with you and sometimes have a beer with Virgil after work. Max likes me because he can sot in a bar with me with no talking at all. I don't do parents' morning at school, I don't volunteer at the local charity club, I don't have a weekly girls' nights, I don't do playdates for Frannie. I know a bunch of people at work who are actively avoiding me because I'm 'Crazy Carrie'." 

He inhaled sharply but she wasn't done yet. 

"I do my lunch breaks with you or Saul or I don't do lunch because there's nobody else I could have lunch with. Which is fine for me. I am not lonely, this is just how I am. But you must have noticed I am not good at this, never was, and probably never will be."

"So, this..." he gestures at her whole appearance "...how does this fit with what you just told me? Because I don't get it."

She flushed and looked away.

"I wanted to look nice. For you. To be at least a bit proud of me. Because I know you like Astrid, and she is always so impeccable, fucking perfect, and I guess she makes great dinner conversations, and I know Otto does too, and you both will sit there and admire her for being so smart and witty and perfect and probably funny too...while I am probably silent and awkward, and I wanted at least to look nice." Her voice was barely audible.

Her lack of self-worth once again hit him hard, he honestly had hoped she would have learnt by now how much he valued her. But again, he knew about her condition.

He placed his chin on her head, looking at her in the mirror.

"You do look beautiful. And I like what you did with your hair. But you are always beautiful to me. But much more important: You are the smartest person I ever met, I wish my brain would klick and work like yours. And in case you didn't notice, except with you, I am not great with talking, and it happens that you are my favourite person in the world to talk to. And I am very flattered to take out the most beautiful woman tomorrow night."

"Really? You're not just saying this to avoid some drama?" He saw a very little glint of humour in her eyes.

"As we hadn't enough drama over the last months..." he smirked. "No, I am saying this, because it's true. And maybe just a little bit because I hope that I'll be allowed to open that lovely dress now because in my wildest dreams I can't imagine the move you'd have to make to open that zipper all the way down your back on your own."

She smiled and nodded, somehow he made it alright, she was ok now.

When he had opened the zipper, she stepped out of the dress, putting it back on a hanger, and he pulled her into an embrace.

"Wait a second, I just noticed the underdress. What am I supposed to do to have you not to get out of this right now but rather keep wearing it for a while?" His voice was low and husky. His hand slid down the soft fabric, he often had pictured her in darkblue silk in his fantasies and now she stood in front of him, the delicate fabric dark and shiny on her milkwhite skin.

"I could come up with some ideas..." 

A lot later, the silky dress long gone, she laid curled up next to him, just about to fall asleep.

"You know, I won't bail on you, do you?" he asked.

"Yeah, I learnt that. I won't either."

"Do you miss other people?"

"No, I always have been alone. This is just who I am. And compared to before I now have so much more. There is you. And Frannie. After my condition was diagnosed, I was convinced for like 20 years, I would always be alone, except of Maggie and my Dad, and never have a family of my own. And now I have, and that is more as I ever had expected. So, no, I don't miss anything, I am pretty fucking happy honestly. And I still feel you and I missed each other for so long, so I don't like sharing you." He noticed her choice of words, it was the first time she was naming herself, Frannie and him a family, which felt oddly good, he thought. What he liked most was how casual she was saying it, like she was used to the thought.

"You know, Saul once said to me, you always were alone."

"When was that?"

"When Javadi had you kidnapped, I searched your condo for a trace. I hated myself for not beng there early enough, close enough."

"You were at a safe distant, I remember."

"I remember when Saul said that I decided you weren't alone anymore, but I would be with you."

"So long?"

"Now you know."

\----------------------------------------------

To their mutual surprise next day's dinner was relaxed and pleasant. Otto was genuinly happy to see Carrie and if there was an initial awkwardness between Astrid and Carrie, he managed very well to get around it by asking the right questions, telling some interesting bits and pieces from his recent travels and getting everyone into the conversation. He sheepishly told Astid and Quinn about his and Carrie's journey to Beirut and how Carrie saved his life there and Quinn is thankful how Otto acknowledged Carrie's professional skills and instincts by recalling these events.

Carrie looked indeed really beautiful and he was proud, exactly knowing how difficult it must be for her to meet Astrid. Once he caught a knowing smile from Astrid, her head tilted towards Carrie, followed by an approving nod. When he had to use the bathroom she caught him on the way back, apparently waiting for him. 

"You look at her like a love-sick teenager."

"Replace teenager by middle-aged man, the rest is true. She is the best what ever happened to me."

"I am glad for you. She seems to be different than I thought."

"Tell me, you and Otto..."

"We are heading somewhere...but as a real gentleman, he's kind of taking it slow."

He smiled when he heard the strain of frustration in her words. "From recent experience I can tell you, sometimes guys like a woman's initiative. If you want him, get him."

They return home late that night, good food and wine and honestly very interesting discussions had summed up to a very enjoyable evening and Carrie surprised herself when she invited Otzo and Astrid for a BBQ on Saturday to - as she said - "our house". "I don't want Frannie to be with a babysitter too often but maybe you could just come over and we have dinner there." And he was stunned by the effort she was making.

He knew better than to comment on it, but later in the cab, he pulled her close, whispering "I am indeed very proud of you."


	39. Not everybody is fit to be a parent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn forms an important bound with Frannie, but parenting is a difficult topic for him and Carrie

Otto and Astrid had left, not without Otto asking Carrie out for lunch on their departure day and once again offering her a job with the foundation, actually any job she wanted, either in Germany or elsewhere, hired or freelance consulting. Carrie was tempted but denied.

"You know, I don't wanna jeopardize destiny again. The last time I tried to leave the CIA...well you know...and I am in a good place now, both job-wise and in my private life. But it feels like I shouldn't opt for major changes now."

"I see. And I understand. But consider it as a standing offer. Should you ever want to, just let me know. But I'd like to keep in touch, as friends."

"I'd like that, too." She smiled at him.

"You know, Jonas is my friend. And I wish him happiness. But I am very glad to see you so happy. Peter and you, you are quite a match."

Carrie blushed, it still felt a bit strange to talk about their relationship with someone else. But it was true, and Otto was a friend, so why not.

"Yeah, we are good for each other. It took us long to realize and I am sorry it hurt Jonas, but right now, I am really happy, who would have thought that last summer. But tell me, you and Astrid..."

He leant back, with a deep sigh.

"Yeah, well, me and Astrid...I like her, a lot, but I am not so sure what she sees in me. And I don't want another relationship of convenience, I want to be with someone who wants what I want, shares my dreams..."

Carrie chuffed a laugh. "And suddenly I am the queen of advice...I don't know her well. But I know Quinn values her a lot. And I know that all the waiting caused a lot of pain in our case, so maybe you just tell her and then you'll know? Personally I'd guess, she might be waiting for a sign from you."

She and Otto parted with a hug and Carrie thought, that Germany had in the end given her quite a lot, she had learnt to be a mum, she had finally found Quinn and she had found a friend.

\---------------------------------------

They were doing good, still being them, still finding ways how to deal with their baggage, sometimes more, sometimes less successful, but overall, life was good. 

Carrie's psychatrist had suggested to again lower the dose of her meds further down because she was so stable. Carrie had insisted that he joined the appointment which had followed that suggestion, to talk it through and make the decision.  
He didn't feel comfortable as he didn't want to intrude her privacy but she was very serious about it, pointing out that he would be the first one to notice if she was relapsing or behaving strangely.   
So he went with her, surprised about the very normal setting of this conversation, like any other doctor's appointment, going over benefits and possible side-effects, somehow after seeing her at the psych ward years ago he had expected this to be more traumatic.   
The only risk involved was that one strong emotion could overrule Carrie's conciousness and drive her into a state of emotional emergency, as her condition was basically a neurochemical inbalance. With lower meds, that point would be reached earlier than before.  
They both felt confident to take that risk as nothing had happened over the last months and he knew she felt better the lower her meds were. And, unspoken and silent, he was proud that she was so stable since he was around, because he wasn't used to have that effect on people.

She had seen his mouth angles slightly twitching when her psych had been talking about the one strong emotion possibly overruling her conciousness and on the way back to the car she leant into him, placed one hand on his left buttock and asked with a low voice "A penny for your thoughts about something overruling my conciousness..."

He turned towards her, pulled her close and let one hand run down her back to her butt. "Sorry, I know that was inapproriate...but it kick started some ideas...but I don't think I need the help of meds to get you there faster..."

"But you are ok with the rest of what we were told?"

"I am. Let's give it a try."

\-----------------------------

Carrie even went on a five days-conference to New York with Saul while Quinn stayed with Frannie, saying he could manage alone and wouldn't need Maggie's help. And if there were a real emergency, Maggie would just be down the road.

Carrie called twice every day which amused him a lot, mother hen in chief, that was what she was. Frannie was coping well and even if they had a lot of take away for dinner he was quite satisfied with his effort.

Even bedtime went well, only that she made him to read like five stories every night, whereas she never got more than one from Carrie. But he liked being the softer one and if she knew how to wrap him around her tiny fingers that was fine to him. One night she had a bad dream and spent the rest of the night snuggled into him in his and Carrie's bed and he didn't dare to sleep or move anymore to avoid waking her up or rolling over her by accident.

Just the last night, just before bedtime, she asked him a question which immediatly gave him a headache.

"Do you know my dad?"

"Why are you asking me this, sweat pea?" He was just buying time, he knew.

"Mommy never tells me anything about him. But I know you are not my real dad, Aidan said, I wouldn't have red hair then." How come, 5 year olds are so smart these days, he thought, at the same time completely overwhelmed by the situation. He instinctly knew he was trapped. Not answering Frannie who had turned to him in complete trust would be heartbreakingly but having this conversation without Carrie was something he couldn't do either.

"Miss Martin says, everybody has a Dad."

Maybe he should have a one on one with Miss Martin, telling her to shut up and stick with her own business.

"Look, honey, maybe we should talk about this with your mum when she's back. I once met your dad a long time ago and I am sure he would be very pleased about having such a smart and funny little girl. And so am I. I love you. So if you want I could be your volunteer dad." Uhm, that was some awkward situation, he thought. But Frannie seemed to be satisfied for now. "I'll think about it. I love you too, good night." She curled up as a tiny ball and his eyes were a bit wet, fuck, what a night.

But Frannie was five now, she had a right to know at least something he thought, so with a heavy sigh he decided to bring the topic up on the table when Carrie was back, knowing he was about to enter dangerous ground in numerous ways.

That night, he was the one with a very bad nightmare, the first within weeks. Needless to say, it was about his son.

\-------------------------------------

Carrie came back Friday afternoon and although he hadn't forgotten about his plan to talk to her, there were other things on top of his head first. Frannie and he had picked her up from the airport and their reunion was happy and affectionate. Carrie put Frannie to bed that night while he did the dishes and then he needed to show her how much he had missed her and that required other skills than talking, and afterwards...well, the afterbliss was just not the right moment. 

He had missed her that week, he wasn't used to spend his nights alone anymore. And those little things like talking about something work-related while doing the dishes, sharing a cup of coffee after dinner (she always said she didn't want to drink coffee at night and then, when he had his cup ready, she had half of it - he didn't mind, again, those little things), watching her while she was doing her Sudokus on weekend mornings, or sneaking under the shower when she was in there after her run. He had even missed her cursing when the alarm clock rang in the morning. He really had become attached, this wasn't a love affair, he was deep and completely into something really important, this was not going to pass, this was his life now. From government paid assassin to happy in suburbia, who'd have ever thought.

Saturday was normal in the best sense, running some errands, playing with Frannie outside on the trampoline, some reading in the afternoon while Carrie and Frannie went to see Maggie and the girls, pasta for dinner and then bedtime for Frannie. Tonight would be as good as any night he decided and he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. He was just about to open a bottle of wine when Carrie came downstairs again and leant against his back, arms around his waist.

"Spit it out, what is it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been chewing over something all day, why don't you just tell me?"

There had been days when he had been harder to read, he thought, but anyway.

"It's about Frannie. She asked me something while you were gone and I wanted to talk about this with you."

"Quinn, if it is about the ballet classes she wants to take, the answer is no, I don't want her to grow up thinking a pink tutu and pirouettes..."

"No, it's not about the ballet classes. She asked me if I know who her dad is."

She let go of him and stepped back, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"What did you say?"

"Not much. We never spoke about what you want her to know, so I thought she should have that conversation with you."

"Well, that's not gonna happen." Her expression was stern.

"She's expecting him to have red hair, Aidan told her that, and she knows she must have a dad, Miss Martin told her that. I offered to volunteer, but she knows I am not her dad, although she still is considering my offer."

He was glad that her face softened a bit at his last sentence but that was just a second and then gone.

"You know you had no fucking right to talk with her about Brody, do you?"

"Carrie, please, she was asking me and all I said was I once met him a long time ago and that I know he would be pleased to have such a smart and funny little girl, because that's how I feel about her. That was all."

"That was all? As it wasn't already enough."

"What were I supposed to do? Lie to her? Pretend I don't care?"

"Well, like you never lied before."

"Carrie, you know we are talking about Frannie? About the one question which is probably in her mind every day, because other kids are teasing her and because you don't come up with answers?"

"This is none of your business."

"So, suddenly it isn't? It is my business to be with her while you go on your trip, but when things don't go your way it's none of my business anymore? Just for my clarification."

"You don't get to decide what I tell her about Brody or not. She doesn't need him. She has you, you said it yourself."

"But she knows I am not her father. And she deserves to know who he was." Given the agitated state she was in, he was still relatively calm, seriously convinced some advocating for Frannie was needed and would be successful.

"And what makes you so fucking sure, Brody would have loved her? How can you tell her this?"

"It's not highly likely that he will show up here and tell her differently. I just think if she hears it once from you and you show her a photo she would..." she didn't let him finish his sentence.

"How dare you? How dare you to decide to bring up Brody into Frannie's life? What should I tell her? Ever thought about that? Your father was America's most wanted terrorist and he already had a family but your mother, well known for her history of self-destroying, crappy choices decided that she really wanted him and then I got pregnant, like from a random hook-up, while the man we are living with right now was wired in and listening, probably shooting into his pants because he found it so hot." He winced, he had hoped she wouldn't know. "Oh, and then I talked your father into a mission which was nothing short of a suicide commando and he didn't disappoint me. He got heroin-addicted, was somehow involved in a bombing which caused over 220 innocent lives and then - as if it wasn't already enough - I talked him into a trip into Iran and there he ended up pulled up on a crane, suffocating, crowds cheering, and he was red, then blue, then purple and in the end almost black and his legs cramped and his whole body spasmed and he lost his body fluids and I did this to him, and I watched it, but I am sure he would have loved you - isn't that a fairy tale? Like this?" She was starring at him, her hands onto the kitchen counter, knuckles white.

It was the first time they spoke about Brody and honestly he could kick himself that he didn't see this coming.

He tried to touch her hand but she backed off.

"Carrie, I had no idea, but I still think, this is not what Frannie needs. She is five for fuck's sake, so a photo and an explanation about him being not here because he's dead will sure be enough."

Suddenly she was deadly calm, watching him like he was a prey. He had no time to evaluate what had changed because her next sentence was calculated to hurt and it hit its target.

"How come you are such an expert? It's not that you are designated to write an agent's ultimative guide to parenting or am I wrong here?"

He inhaled sharply and she saw she had made her point, which felt good, time to push further, he had fucking asked for it.

"How come you are great king of fucking advice when it's about my daughter but haven't seen your son in...I don't know...eight years?"

He couldn't hold onto himself anymore, she saw that with grim satisfaction. "Exactly. I can't write that guide. I haven't seen my son, never. And he grows up without even knowing I exist. He can't even ask for me, because he doesn't know that the man they life with is not his father. But I wished it would be different."

"Just because you are such a big fail, don't let it out on Frannie."

"You are the smartest person I know playing fucking dumb now. Just cut the crap. Did it ever occur to you that you are exactly doing to Frannie - and Brody by the way - what hurts me about John? You are denying her right to know where she is from. She has a right to know and to ask questions. And if you weren't making such a big deal out of it..."

"I am not the one making a big deal out of it, that's you. And by the way, Brody is dead, fucking dead, whereas you seem pretty alive. Quite some difference, I'd say. He had no choice, because I killed him, but you always had a choice, you made your fucking choices and abandoning people who are attached to you seems to be your fucking specialty. Brody loved his children, they were the only reason why he agreed to the Iran-mission."

He knew somewhere in his rage-driven mind that her illness had taken over, probably at a very early point of their conversation, and this was the only thing holding him back, at least enough not to slap her right into her face. They were both leaning against the kitchen counter from opposite sides, faces just inches away.

"So, Brody loved his children and that's why he went with a suicide bomb into a room full of people, that's why he didn't reveal the evidence of Nazir's plans and network early enough for us to make amends, but I am the one with the fucking wrong choices, I see. Makes me somehow think you want me to trade places with him. Would you rather like to have him around and me dangling down the crane?"

He had to give her the credit that her eyes widened for a moment in shock when he said that but then she was back to anger and fury.

"This question is so sick I won't even consider to answer it. It doesn't do any justice, neither to Brody, nor to you, Frannie or me. How dare you? How the fuck dare you?"

Suddenly he knew he couldn't stand this conversation to go on any second longer, and if it only was to prevent worse things happen. So he pushed back, went to the hallway, grabbed his jacket, purse and keys and was half way through the door when she came after him.

"So, this is what you do now? Running away, again? Really, Quinn? Again?"

Her voice was somewhere between rage and despair but he couldn't stay, he just couldn't.

All he managed was to turn around and kiss her hard on the corner of her mouth, brief and messy.

"I might need a day or two, but I'll be back."

And with that he was out and drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not very happy, I know. But it had to happen sooner or later because the topic is too huge to be left untouched.


	40. Two conversations

He drove around for two hours, either that or drinking, and he didn't wanna go down that road again, although he was tempted, so tempted. But he was afraid of what he might do then and so he just speeded down the highway, windows open, trying not to think. He didn't go back to his motel, too much alcohol stored there and his weapon locked in a wardrobe, and he knew this was not a match made in heaven for tonight, so better to avoid it right away.

\-------------

She returned into the dark house, tempted to pour herself a drink, only that she had thrown away all the hard stuff after his last stupor a few weeks ago. Getting new supplies would have meant to leave Frannie alone and she wouldn't wanna do this. She pushed away any thought of Quinn, with the greatest possible effort, because she knew the pain would probably kill her, unable any rational thought.  
She went into her, their, sleeping room, looking at the now familiar messy arrangement at his bedside table for a second too long, his books, Ipad, his coffee cup from the morning, a photo of her, and it hurt, but then she was getting a box out from the most hidden shelf of her wardrobe and carried that into the downstairs bedroom, then she got some sticky tape and a scissor from the kitchen. She still felt adrenaline rushing through her veins and she didn't want to think about the other feelings she had, afraid of what that might do with her. So, what the fuck, she went upstairs again and threw the last two Xanax in, then went back downstairs. She opened the box and within the next hours she went through the contents of the box, her only remainders of Brody - newspaper articles, surveillance photos, some of her own notes.

\--------------

He was just about to enter Harrisburgh when he decided to make a turn to Route 76 and drive to Philadelphia. Obviously he still had a score to settle there and now was as good as any day, probably it was time. His mind refused to go back to the recent clash with Carrie, he knew he would loose it for real if he went back there, and even if it was just in his thoughts, too early. So years of training kicked in and helped to empty his mind and to focus about what was coming next.

\--------------

Carrie pinned everything she needed onto the wall, it was about 2 am when she was done and tuned in a CD, Monk, as it was her favourite and she had no idea about the music he had liked, Springsteen maybe, american rock for a Marine, she didn't now, so her choice of music had to do. Just then she got a bottle of wine, sat down on the floor, texted Maggie ("Please come over as early as you can, I need to talk to you, it's urgent"), poured herself a drink and allowed the memories to flood in. Her own personal requiem for Brody, more than five years later. She lost track of time and place, just focused on her memories and the related pain and it washed her away. She laid on the floor and sobbed and cried for dear life, regretting and atoning for what she had done, to him and to herself, mourning him and the person she herself had been back then. She tried to remember how he had looked and how it had felt to be with him, tried to remember what had her attracted to him in the first place, thought about his brokeness, his ambiguity, the hate and doubt she had felt, and at the same time the love. She remembered their good-bye in the woods, her last words to him in Iran and his eyes when she told him about the baby she was expecting. She remembered being restraint in the psych ward, being right about his suicidal mission, the immense relief and grief she had felt when whe saw that video. And she made herself remember every painful, heartbreaking detail of his death, she had been there, she was his only witness and she knew, she owed him not to forget. And she swore to herself she'd take that specific memory with her into her grave, she'd never speak about it with Frannie. But in her memory she went through it again, and she didn't look away, she watched him dying again, fully aware that she had been doing that to him, this was the burden she had to carry.  
And then she thought about the child she had carried while she had been clinging to that fence in Teheran. The child she thought she could never love. The child she had abandoned and once tried to suffocate. Frannie. Her daughter, and now she loved her more than anybody else, the best thing she'd ever done, the miracle she had been allowed to take with her home from the hell Teheran and Islamabad had been. Brody's daughter. And somehow, and she didn't know when this had happened, Quinn's daughter as well.

\----------------

It paid off now that he had sneaked into her life pulling some agency strings over the last couple of months. It was nearly 2 am when he arrived in Philly, knowing that depending on her shift, she'd either come out of the station at about 7 am or arrive there about the same time. But he wanted to catch her after her shift. If she was arriving at 7, he would not reveal himself but drive to John's school instead, the one he had found through going through her bank account's data. He knew her and her husband's numberplates as well as their adress, so it was a question of hours until she would run into him.   
He had plenty of time now, nothing would happen before the morning. He stopped at a 24 hours-mall, getting some fresh clothes, a tooth brush, tooth paste and low quality binoculars, they'd serve their purpose, he just wanted a glimpse on John without getting too close.  
He had a lonely dinner in a crappy, empty diner, along with a beer and a cup of stale, luke-warm coffee afterwards and set himself up in front of the police station at 4.30.

\-----------------

Maggie rushed in at 6.20, in her PJs and slippers, being seriously worried. She found her sister in the downstairs bedroom, curled up on the floor, the wall covered with photographs and papers, Carrie awake but next to an empty winebottle, with panda eyes, swollen and read. Quinn was nowhere to be seen. She had seen her text message after what had been intended to be just a quick visit to the bathroom before another one or two hours of sleep, but then had ran over immediatly. What she found was not calming her fears, quite the opposite. She had arrived not a minute too early, Frannie padded down at 6.30, like every morning, pleased to see her aunt who promised her pancakes for breakfast and a movie with her cousins if they'd walk over right now and let her Mommy sleep.

\-------------------

Julia arrived a couple of minutes before 7, already in uniform, obviously on a day shift today. So, nothing would happen here before 2.30 pm, time to drive to the school. On the way he decided to drive by the house and to follow the husband's car or the schoolbus because he didn't want to miss the moment. He had been right, it was the husband driving John to school and it was easy to tail them, civilians never paid attention to what was happening around them. He didn't even need the binoculars because he was entering the parking lane right behind them, being less than two metres away when the kid got off the car. He hadn't been very successful to brace himself for the moment to come and so he knew the pain would be immense and expected it, he deserved it anyway. The kid was tall for his age, sleek, tossled dark hair, dimples when he shot a smile as good-bye into the car, wearing jeans and a hoodie. He looked left and right for other cars when he was about to cross the street and their eyes briefly met. Piercing blue eyes and a first hint of what would be sharp cheek-bones in future, still hidden under the softness of the last remainders of a child's chubbiness. He was looking at his younger self, his spitting image of more than 30 years ago, the boy he once had been, around the time when his parents had died.  
He held his breath until John had crossed the street and the other car was gone and then banged his forehead against the steering wheel, once and then again, trying to counter the inner pain with outer hurt - needless to say it didn't work.  
It took him nearly half an hour to regain enough composure to be able to drive away and he felt a massive headache creeping up his spine. Time to rest in the next-best motel he could find and luckily there were some painkillers left in the glove compartment, the heavy stuff he had been taking in winter. He crashed on the cheap motelbed, last concious thought was setting his phone's alarm to midday.

\--------------------

Maggie was back at 7, brewed coffee and sat down on the floor next to Carrie with two steaming cups. To her surprise, Carrie sat up and took one cup with a deep sigh.

"Thank you. I am really sorry but I need to talk to you."

"Carrie, what happened? And where is Peter?"

"I'll tell you later. But now I want to tell you about Frannie's father."

Maggie was stunned, there had been a time when she had tried over and over again to get Carrie to talk about that man, but her sister had been closed like an oyster, simply refusing to give away anything. So she had stop trying years ago and had thought that Carrie would probably never talk about him, let alone reveal his identity. Her eyes wandered over the wall and she hold her breath, she remembered that man's photograph being in all newspapers, broadcasted on all TV stations...

"Carrie, is that...?"

"Yes, it is. Nicolas Brody, America's most wanted terrorist. Frannie's biological father. Most of what I am going to tell you is classified so you will never be allowed to speak of it if you don't want me to end up in jail for about 20 years, and there are some things I won't be able to tell, so don't ask any questions. But what I want to tell you..."

And then her sister spoke for almost two hours, about how she had met that man, fallen into a desperate, messy, doomed love affair with him, and how she had witnessed his death in an unnamed country during a mission, she didn't explain any further, just after she had noticed she was pregnant. She spoke about her numbness and pain, about her self-loath and her wish to atone, all of that being the reasons to leave for Islamabad and Kabul. She confessed her unability to love Frannie in the beginning and thanked her under tears for having been there for Frannie. And then she finished with quiet sob "I wouldn't have survived Islamabad as a human without Quinn, he was the only person back then preventing me from completely loosing it."

"Where is he now?"

"We had a major fight last night about Frannie's wish to know about her father. And about some issues from his past as well. He has a son he never saw. He left around 9, we both needed some space."

For a while they just sat on the floor and said nothing. Maggie spoke first then.

"I guess you wouldn't wanna show Frannie a picture of her father?"

"No, too dangerous. People still recognize him, like you did. I can't risk her taking that photo to school or seeing a picture of him on a fucking commemeration day of the CIA bombing in a newspaper. I think, I'll never reveal his identity to her."

"But you could talk to her about him, give him a name and tell her he existed. She is five, I guess for now that's all she needs."

"Yeah, probably I should do this." Carrie sighed.

"Why don't you sleep a couple of hours now and Frannie stays with us until you are rested? There is no rush, you don't need to do it right away."

Carrie gave her sister a long hug. When she was alone she curled into Quinn's bed, breathing in his smell, wondering if she had fucked it up again. She grapped her phone and tried to call him, but he didn't answer, so she texted him before she felt into a light sleep, deeply worried about him and the fight last night.

\----------------------------

He woke up with a headache, not knowing where he was. The memory kicked in a second later and was anything but awful. His phone indicated a call from Carrie, he had been so knocked out, he hadn't heard it. But honestly, he wouldn't have answered it anyway. She had sent a message though.

"Even when I am at my worst, I do love you. I am sorry. Please call or come home." He buried his face in his hands. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, he couldn't deal with this now. So he switched of his phone, feeling like the selfish prick he probably was.

An hour later he had showered and changed and was waiting again outside the police station. He had parked his car a block away and walked over, waiting now leaning against her car. There was no reason to make himself unseen now, quite the opposite, he wanted her to see him, now after all those years. She came out a couple of minutes after 2.30 with another female cop who parted with a smile. It was not before she was only ten metres away from her car that she saw and recognized him. He could see the shock in her eyes, followed by anger, followed by a quizzical look. He pushed himself forward, away from the car and met her halfway.

"Hey."

"Well, I always expected that to happen one day. Although, over the years, I thought maybe you died and wouldn't come back."

"Can we sit somewhere and talk?"

"There is nothing left to say."

"I don't think so. Please."

"There is a coffee shop a block down the road, we can go there. But I only have half an hour, I need to go to the school and pick up..." her voice trailed off, like she didn't want to give away more information.

\---------------------------

Carrie woke up again at 2.30 in the afternoon. He hadn't called and hadn't answered her text. She tried to call him, his phone was off. She drove by his motel but his car wasn't there. 

She returned to her neighborhood, and found Frannie playing with her cousins in Maggie's garden. Maggie smiled reassuringly at her and called her girls in to help prepare snacks while she snuggled herself with Frannie into the porch swing.

"Sweat pea, Peter told me you asked him about your dad."

"Are you angry?" The question put a dagger of guilt into her heart.

"No, I am not. I think it's time we talk about him. What do you want to know?"

"Where is he?"

"He is dead. He was a soldier, like your friend Anna's dad, and he died while he was doing good things."

"Were you very sad?" Tears were welling up in Carrie's eyes, because of the innocence and natural kindness of her daughter's question.

"Yes, I was. But I was lucky. Because I already knew I had you in my tummy and that made me very happy. And your Dad was happy too, he knew about you being in my tummy."

"Did he have red hair?"

"Yes, red hair and blue eyes, like you."

"You have blue eyes, too."

"Yes, I do."

"What's his name?"

"Nick."

"Would he live with us if he were not dead?" What a clever question, Carrie thought, despite the seriousness of the situation very proud of her daughter.

"No, he wouldn't. We would still live with Peter then. Your dad and I...we were not together like Peter and you and I are now. But he gave me the most important thing in my life: you, and this is the greatest present I ever got."

"In your whole life, like all christmas days and birthdays together?"

"Yes, the best present ever."

"Can I have two dads?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Peter said he could be my dad. And if I can have two dads, he could be one and Nick the other one."

"If it's want you want, I am sure you can have two dads and Peter will love to be your dad, like I love being your mum." Carrie had to hold back her tears, in every way this had been extraordinary and she wished she had had this conversation with her daughter much earlier.

"Mummy, are you alright? Your voice sounds strange and you have red eyes."

"I got a fly into my eye. Why don't you go inside and get yourself some of Aunt Maggie's cookies and lemonade, before Josie and Ruby have it all?"

When Frannie was gone she allowed herself some tears, but mostly tears of relief. If only Quinn had been here to witness this, she tought, well aware that he had been right, so fucking right.

\-------------------------

They sat down in the coffee shop and she looked at him, expectantly and hostile at the same time.

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to talk about John."

"Why?"

"He is my son, I want to know, how he is doing."

"He is not your son. He is Ted's and my son. You walked out of the delivery unit on the day of his birth to do a phone call and were never seen again. So he is not your son." She looked at the man who sat opposite of her, wondering what she had seen in him years ago. He was attractive, always had been, and she had felt attracted to the aura of loneliness and desperation he had carried then. They had met every now and then for a couple of months, but he seemed not to be ready for more, and when she had noticed she was pregnant and had considered abortion he had talked her into having the child, had promised to be there. He had vanished for months during her pregnancy but always came back, darker and more silent than before but he always came back. He had told her he was a soldier but she hadn't been sure if that was the truth. And then, right after the birth of John, he disappeared, and this time he didn't come back. And now he sat there, still beautiful, calm and severe, how could she ever forget him with her son being his spitting image?

"I know I fucked it up. And I can't tell you how sorry I am. And I know you probably don't need me in your life but I really want this, I want to know him. And I guess it is his right to know about me."

"Jesus, John, this can't be true. You've been away eight years, he doesn't even know Ted is not his biological father and now you think you can pop up here and demand to be part of his, of our life?"

"My name's not John and I changed. I am not that man anymore. I've been a special agent with the CIA for fifteen years, that's why you don't know my name and that's why I walked away. To protect him. And you. I couldn't do this to you. But I am not that man anymore and I don't work there anymore. My name is Peter, Peter Quinn."

She took a deep breath. "Alone this is enough to proof me I am right. You let me name a child with your name, just it turns out it wasn't your name."

"It's my middle name. And it was my father's name." It sounded kind of lame in his own ears, too.

"I don't care. I just wish I had chosen another name for him. And about the rest of your story. It doesn't matter anymore. There was a time when I had been happy if you had trusted me enough to not only share carnal pleasures with me but your life, but obviously you chose differently. You walked away from me the day I was most vulnerable, after giving birth to a child which I didn't want in the first place. You promised to be there, you told me, you wanted this to happen. But you walked away, right after he was born. And you never came back. I don't care about your reasons, they don't matter anymore. And now it's too late, I don't need you anymore, we don't need you anymore, you have no right to be here and I will not tell John about you. Please don't come back."

She grapped into her bag and got a cheque book out, scribbeling some lines on a cheque and put in on the table in front of him.

"I never used the money you sent, please take it back and stop sending more." Then she dropped a couple of dollars on the table - "for the coffee" - and was about to leave. All he could do was to scribble his name, adress and phone number on a napkin and hand it to her, "In case you ever change your mind, I am truely sorry", and then she was gone.


	41. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains explicit scenes, and the line between con/non-con sex is very thin here. If you don't want to read this, just skip this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst und Zweifel
> 
> Zweifle nicht  
> an dem  
> der dir sagt  
> er hat Angst
> 
> aber hab Angst  
> vor dem  
> der dir sagt  
> er kennt keinen Zweifel
> 
> Fear and Doubt
> 
> don't doubt of  
> someone  
> who's saying  
> he's scared
> 
> but be scared of  
> someone  
> who's saying  
> he's without a doubt
> 
> Erich Fried

After meeting with Julia he had spent a couple of nights in a motel somewhere on the road, purposefully managing his alcohol intake in a way that kept him just enough shitfaced most of the time. Because when he wasn't, his regrets of a lifetime kept walking around his mind, giving him no rest at all. He dreamed of the child in Caracas, only this time it was John jr. he killed.

What the fuck had he been thinking? That he could walk in Julia's life after eight years, tell her he changed, he was different now, and wanted to be part of John's life? Honestly, somehow he had hoped that.

In a strain of consciousness he had managed to text Carrie. "I was in Philadelphia. It didn't go well. I need some time." Then he had switched his phone off. Now he was back in his motel in Virginia but hadn't called her yet, nor texted her to let her know he was back. And even if he knew he probably should, the sooner the better, he had no intention to do so anytime soon. He had managed to stay sober enough to do the drive but intended to drink himself into stupor right now. How could he go back to Carrie and play house and family with her and Frannie if he so royally had fucked it up with his own child? How could anybody want to be with that man? And how could anybody trust him to be around a child? 

Carrie had told Saul, Quinn was down with flu and had checked on his motel twice a day all week and when she saw his car in the parking lot on the way back home Friday evening she was relieved beyond words. She tried to call him but his phone was still disconnected. She called Maggie, asking her, if Frannie could stay with her, then went to the next 7Eleven and got a bottle of Whiskey.

She had only been to Quinn's motel room that one time, and still hated the thought of him keeping it as his back up solution and hide out. Nobody cared when she passed the reception desk and made her way to his unit. When she knocked at his door, he didn't open for a while.

"Quinn, it is me. I know you are back. Open the door or I'll break it."

Nothing.

"Quinn, don't be silly. Open that fucking door or I'll go to the reception and tell them you're the head of a local drug dealer gang and flash my CIA ID along with that."

The door opened. There he was. Dark circles under his eyes, eyes red-rimmed, gaunt, a few days' stubble in his face but as far as she could see and smell relatively sober. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her, grim and distant. She hadn't seen this version of him for years and was deeply angry with Julia that she had gotten him there in no time. And angry with herself as she had sent him down that road with her stubborn behaviour last week.

"What do you want?" His voice was low, his eyes bleak and there was no warmth or affection at all.

"Looking out for the man I love."

She moved around him, into the room.

"Well, apparently that man's not here."

He could see the hurt on her face for a fraction of a second. It scared him, how good it felt to lash out, but that was just an instance of regret and then it was gone and he wanted to hurt her more. Because the pain needed to go somewhere. And there was nobody else he could hurt.

She put the bottle of whiskey on the counter, next to his three bottles.

"I thought you might want a drink, but I see you got yourself enough supplies. May I have glass?"

"Alcohol is your solution to pretty much everything, isn't it?"

Low blow, and kind of lame, given the fact that she nearly never drank these days, had thrown out all the hard stuff weeks ago and brought one bottle to a place where he already had three lined-up, and god only knows how much he had had over the last couple of days. But again, he could see, she was hurt, and that was what he was looking for.

He opened a bottle and poured her a generous drink, for himself the bottle was just fine and he had a healthy sip, then raised the bottle towards her in a mute mockery of a toast. She just looked at him and he couldn't stand the sympathy in her eyes.

"Carrie, Carrie, why did you come? I am just a pathetic asshole, messing up people's life as soon as I get in a mile's distance. Better run for cover."

She knocked back her drink and put the glass back on the counter, closing the distance between them with two steps. She had never been a coward, he had to give her that. It was a deliberate provocation, when he took another deep sip from the bottle and looked away.

"Is there nothing else you can do with a Friday evening? No friends to hang out with? No important work to be done? No dinner at Maggie's?" Mean, referring to her not having a lot of friends, he knew, and he saw he'd hit a weak spot. He desperatly wanted a reaction from her, wanted her to loose her nerve, to yell at him, to give him reason to yell back. But she didn't. She just took another step towards him, so now he was caught between her and the wall and took his hand into hers.

"If you think, drinking helps, I'll drink with you. If you wanna talk, tell me. If there's anything else you need, consider it done. It's me and I am right here, just let me help you."

That moment, something snapped out of control. He couldn't stand her proximity, her kind understanding, her patience, not a second longer. He had a couple more gulps from the bottle, then threw it half empty across the room against the opposite wall.

"You think, you can help me? You really think so? How about that?" And with that, he grapped her wrists and swirrled her around him, pinning her against the wall with his body and enjoying his superiority. He ground himself against her, kissing her borderline violently on her mouth, using one hand to greedily grind her breasts. His tongue pressured its way into her mouth, it was nasty and violent, but he couldn't stop it. He pulled down her pants and panties with one movement, squeezing her buttocks with the next movement. Then he ripped her blouse open, buttons jumping away down to the floor. Next he tore her bra apart, revealing her soft breasts. Now she was more or less naked, against his fully dressed frame. "You think, the man you love is here? How come, you love me? How come, you think I am good for you?"

She hadn't said a word nor had she moved which drove him crazy, crazy with lust and anger. He wanted her, he needed her. And at the same time, hated himself for needing her. He couldn't see her face in the evening twighlight of the room but it didn't matter. Within a second, his pants were down to his ankles and his hard cock pressed up against her hip. He kissed her again, messy, filthy. 

He pushed a finger into her slit, not taking care of her inhaling sharply, wanting to hurt her. He was so fiercly aroused, he needed her so badly, and he wanted the pain to end, needed to find a cure for his emptiness. At the back of his mind, a couple of brain cells told him that this was a pretty bad idea, but he was too far gone to stop this now. He pushed another finger into her, his body pressed against hers. She could barely breathe, let alone move.

"You're still sure, you still love me? Look at me" he commanded. She looked up to him, her eyes wide, filled with tears. She wished she could do anything to ease his pain. Why has he to suffer so much? All she could do was reach out for him and put her arms around his neck, try to make a human connection.

"This is me. Do you see me? I am not nice. I am not likeable. I am not reliable. Just another fucking lie I told myself long enough to believe it. I've done bad things, dark things. But this is me. Do you really think you still want me? Because then, you'll get me." She heard the underlying threat, but it didn't scare her. She herself had been, where he was now, and she knew how terrible he probably felt, how much it was hurting and she just wanted it to stop, help him to find a way out.

She nodded, silently and moved one hand to his chin, cupping it, and looked right into his eyes. She saw through his pain, suffering and fear and it broke her heart.

He withdrew his fingers, lifted her up against the wall, positioned himself and entered her with one firm thrust. It wouldn't take long, just a couple of thrusts, banging her against the wall, he knew that right away. And knowing at the same time about the massive mistake he was about to make, made it only worse. It was a matter of less than a minute until he unloaded himself into her with one final heavy stroke. His mouth came down to her shoulder and while shooting into her he bit her, harder than he had expected and intended, suddenly he tasted blood in his mouth.

That brought him back to reality. He stood in his motel room, Carrie naked banged up against the wall, his pants down to his ankles, his semen trickeling out of her, a bloody bite on her shoulder, the metallic taste of blood, her blood, on his tongue. He cringed and sank down to the floor, pulling her with him. Ragged sobs came out of his throat when they hit the floor. He cradled her in his arms, holding her to his chest.

"Oh God, Carrie, what did I do? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Please, say something, tell me you are ok. I am so sorry. Please, Carrie..."

Tears started to stream down his cheeks. She put her arms around his neck and whispered "I am ok, it's fine" but he couldn't stop crying.

"I completely lost it. I am so sorry. Why didn't you stop me?" She could hear how desperate he was and wiggled herself out of his embrace, only to move again closer immediatly, but this time to cradle him in her arms.

"Sh, it is ok. I am ok. If you need me, you can have me. Although you don't need to repeat this very setting right away. Next time, just ask. I'll never say no to you if you need me."

"I just wanted the pain to end." This sounded very lame in his own ears, given what he had just done. 

"I know. Did it end?"

"No."

"But it will get better. Every day. Trust me. Let me help you."

"How can you love a man, who abandoned his child?"

"How can you love a woman, who abandoned her child?"

"Carrie, I mean it. How can you love a man, who murdered a child? I shot that kid to death in Caracas."

"How can you love me, knowing I fucked with Aayan, let him fall in love with me only to send him to death then? How can you love me, knowing my drone strikes killed innocent women and children?"

There was a moment silence between them, before she went on.

"Quinn, we can't change our past. We can just shape the present and hopefully the future. We did, what we did, and we are even. I know your shit and you know mine. That makes us a match, I guess. And about your son, I know it is hard for you, and wish I could change that. But as far as it concerns me and my love for you, for me it is not important you left him behind 8 years ago, for me is important, you tried to get him back. That you went there and tried."

She shivered and it suddenly occured him that she was still naked while he was at least half dressed. He casted his shirt off and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then he got up and got rid of his jeans. Now he was naked, while she was at least covered a bit. He leant down and picked her up, carefully carrying her towards his bed. After he had sat her down on one corner, he carefully pulled away his shirt and checked on the bite mark in her shoulder.

Again, his face clouded from sorrow and guilt. "I am so sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing."

He pulled back the cover and arranged her and himself in the bed, holding her in his arms, pulling the warm blanket over them.

Darkness took the room while the last daylight faded. And he told her about his meeting with Julia. And while he was still sad, he noticed that telling her, feeling her sympathy and opening his pain for her somehow made it better and took some of the pain's worst rawness.

Later that night he made slow and gentle love to her, beyond words and utterly thankful that she was willing to accept him. He hit a sore spot when he entered her, this time careful enough to feel her wince and hear her soft whimper. He pulled his cock immediatly back out, feeling guilty and so fucking bad for what he had done to her earlier.

"Quinn, please don't stop now. I need you" she whispered.

He moved down and slowly entered his tongue, supported by two fingers drawing slow circles around her clit, to please her and bring her towards her orgasm. Only after she had come he slowly re-entered her with his cock, so slow that it took him minutes until he was completely in. The act itself was the slowest and most gentle thing he had ever done, barely moving at all, but when he finally came, it was so much more fulfilling than the rough and violent encounter before. He cried, she could feel and taste the salty drops on her face and hold him as close as she could.

Afterwards he pulled her onto his chest and that was how she fell asleep that night. He stayed awake, holding her and listening to her breathing.

She woke up before dawn, still in his arms on his chest and immediatly could tell from his breathing that he wasn't sleeping.

"You didn't sleep at all?"

"No" His voice was just a whisper, brittle. "I am scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of many things. Of myself. Of another dream. And of what I might be capable of if I dream and have a flashback."

"I am not scared of you. I never was. And I never will."

He didn't reply to that, just hold her tight. She wiggled a bit and rolled herself next to him, pulling him into an embrace. She kissed him softly.

"Let me make love to you and then it's your turn to sleep. I'll stay awake and watch. I'll wake you up in case of a dream."

She slipped down to his hips and placed soft kisses on his abdomen, flicking her tongue over him and down to his cock. When she took him into his mouth and engulfed him, he let out a whimper, which soon turned into a soft moan. She was soft and tender, like she had been on New Year's, and she let him all the time he needed. His orgasm built up slowly, and the feeling of sexual pleasure was secondary to the feeling of belonging to her, and after she had taken him over the edge, he fell directly into an exhausted sleep.

When he woke up, it was late morning, but she was still next to him, one arm over his chest, smiling at him.

"Are you back?" she asked.

"Yes, I am. And I want to go home now. I can't spend a single day longer here. If you still want me around, that is. I could understand, if this is not longer an option, just say so." He was really scared of her answer, as he knew last night he had crossed a line which he would never be able to forgive himself.

"I am glad" she simply answered, got up and started to pack his very few belongings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might need some time to write the next chapters so I hope you stay with me for a couple of days.


	42. Caught Inbetween

So it happened with very little fanfare that he finally and fully moved in with her and Frannie. It was not that she didn't give him the feeling of being genuinly happy to have him there and so much hadn't changed to the before, he had more or less lived with them since being back from Berlin. But he hadn't recovered from the night at the motel and honestly he didn't know if he ever would, given the significance of the line he had crossed there. Oh God, just thinking about it made him wanna wince from shame and guilt immediatly, although Carrie seemed to hold no grudge at all.

Frannie was delighted to see him back when she came home in the afternoon and although her affection gave him a brief reminder of the other child in his life, or more to the point, the absence of that child, he was very happy to see her. She insisted on sitting on his lap for dinner and requested him for bedtime and storytime.

Before she switched of her lamp she made a mysterious face and whispered "My dad's name is Nick but he is dead. He was a soldier. He had red hair. Mommy said we would always live with you, not with him. She said I could have two dads, you and him."

"That's true, I guess. I love you, sweat pea." So she had finally told her, all the shit had be worth at least something.

"What should I call you?"

"Uhm, what would you want to call me?"

"Can I still say Peter? Or Dad?"

Quinn had to swallow. "You know what? You can call me whatever you want, you don't have to decide now. Important is how we feel. And if you want me to be one of your dads, I'm very happy. And now it's time to kiss good night and go to sleep, otherwise we'll both be in trouble with your mum."

Frannie chuckled, kissed him on his cheek and curled up in her bed with the hippo he had bought for her in Berlin. He switched on her small night light, stroked her hair, amazed by the love he felt for her, and left the room.

Carrie was waiting downstairs for him, she had lit some candles in the living room and put two glasses of wine onto the coffeetable. On the couch she leant into him, head on his shoulder and told him about her conversations with Maggie and Frannie about Brody.

"You know, you were right with everything you said. And I'm sorry for what I said, that was awful."

"It was. But it's not, that it wasn't true. And I guess sooner or later we had to talk about it."

"Maybe. But sometimes I just wish, I could have those conversations like a normal person, without loosing it in no time and getting ugly and mean, even to you."

"I should be able to take it, at least every now and then. And I should have known that I was on dangerous ground."

"But you know what's strange? Now, as Frannie and Maggie know, it's not dangerous ground anymore. It's like someone punctured an ulcer and now as the pus is gone it's ok, it's healing."

"That's good. And Frannie seems to be ok with it, as it looks to me."

"She was amazing. I was so proud of her. Did she say anything tonight?"

He smiled at the memory of their conversation. "She did. But I think that's between her and me. Just that much: She seemed absolutely fine with what you told her and she kind of adopted me."

"Frannie adopted you?"

"At least it feels a bit like that. Let's wait and see."

"Are you ok with that?"

"Yeah, more than ok actually, at least there's one human relationship I didn't ever jeopardize and that's kind of something for me, I'd say. And, I really do love her, not only because she's part of you but because she is Frannie. And I like to be someone important for her. But I won't push her, she's in the driver seat."

There were numerous ways to answer and she felt the pain and guilt behind his words, but as well some hope, and she was proud of her little girl who was obviously much better in expressing and dealing with her emotions than her mum and her newly self-chosen dad. She decided there had been enough heavy conversations and strong emotions within the last 24 hours and therefore not to argue with him about the lack of self-confidence which spoke again from what he just had said.

Instead, she brought herself up on his lap, straddled him and kissed him. "You could never jeopardize my love for you. I missed you far too long and I just can't loose you again. Please know that. And please make love to me now, I need you and I want you."

Their love making that night was slow, tender and silent, he was desperatly trying to make the last night forgotten (although he knew he never could), she was determined to give him something to hold onto, to proof she still loved him and wouldn't stop just because he lost it once.

He carried her to bed afterwards and cradled her in his arms like in a human shelter, whispering in her ear "I can never love you enough and I won't ever leave you. And I am so sorry."

\--------------------------------------

As far as Carrie was concerned she didn't plan to ever mention the last night at the motel again, she herself got on a higher dose of meds again (which she only mentioned very casually and he hadn't the strength to argue it) and tried everything to make him feel at home.

But he just couldn't get back into the happiness of the before.

In the beginning she didn't notice or was kind of purposefully overseeing it, hoping it would go away and he might just need some time.

It was little things. Usually he was up in the mornings before her, coffee always ready when she stopped her daily fight with her alarm clock, now there were mornings when she had difficulties to get him out of bed at all.

They always had enjoyed their evenings when Frannie was in bed, never got enough of each other, with mutual strong desire for the beloved other one. Most nights had started with snuggling and kissing in the living room and then mostly ended in making out right there or having sex later in bed. Even when they just watched a movie, were listening to music or reading, there always had been a lot of physical closeness between them, Carrie often thought, they were making up for what they had missed all the years before. And, in a way, sex was their safest way to communicate. Talking, although they both had made serious progress, was often difficult, but afterwards, for that special window of time spent in the afterglow, it was somehow easier, so most difficult topics had been adressed then. And sex was their way to express love and longing, all what they were still struggling to talk about on many days.

These days he never reached out to her, never took the initiative, but never rejected her when she did, quite the opposite, he seemed to be waiting for her initiative and was relieved when she reached out to him, kissed him, pulled him into an embrace or told him she wanted to be with him. Then he was devoted and tender.

But little things were missing. Him kissing her nape when she was cooking dinner, teasing her with what he'd like to do if Frannie weren't watching, or sneeking into the shower when she was in there after a run, or a lingering kiss before they left for work in the morning - all of that stopped.

Their love making had always been rich of varieties, tender and slow love-making as well as fucking each other senseless, and she had always enjoyed the occasions when he'd been dominant, controlling her, and when she had been helpless under his strength and superiority. Never she'd allowed that to happen with anyone else but this was Quinn and by delivering herself completely at his mercy she felt how safe, loved and desired he made her feel. The memory of the occasions when he had tied her hands and blindfolded her...phew, she got heat rushes and flushed cheeks when she just thought about it.

But all of that stopped now. Their love making was still tender and pleasurable but he was different. She couldn't really put a finger on it but now it was mostly slow bouts, he never seemed to loose control, always made sure she came first and never played with his superiority anymore, like he was kind of holding himself back.

He was adorable with Frannie though, the two spent a lot of time on the trampoline and Quinn had bought a wading pool for her as it was a beautiful summer and they splashed around with water nearly every afternoon, quite often joined by Frannie's cousins. Frannie still called him Peter but Carrie knew from a parent teacher meeting with Miss Martin that Frannie had ended the teasing about her father by telling, she had two of them, "a dead one and Peter, who is alive". Miss Martin was very apologetic, saying she hadn't known Frannie's biological father had deceased, and promised to have an eye on the kids to finally drop the subject. Carrie didn't feel bad at all when she thanked her and added the information that Frannie's father had died as a soldier on a mission even before Frannie was born - she kind of deserved the extra punch of guilt for not protecting Frannie better against the kids' baseness.

More and more often Quinn didn't go to bed with her at night, saying he wanted to read a bit more or go for a late run or finish a report for work.

This was what broke her in the end, being in bed without him and missing him, wondering what had happened, why he was so different suddenly. She got up several times on these occasions to check what he was doing and saw him sitting alone and silent in the dark living room. Sometimes he came to bed later in those nights, silently as not to disturb her, but when she rolled over to him he cradled her in his arms immediatly, whispering that he loved her. Sometimes he didn't come to bed at all. And twice she found him sleeping alone in the downstairs bedroom the next morning.

She wasn't sure what to do though, whether to confront him or to give him time - but she missed him terribly, even when she was in his arms it felt like there was a distance.

It wasn't that he wasn't missing her. In fact, most of what he felt during those weeks in that beautiful summer was a terrible longing for her. But what he had done that night in the motel scared him stiff. He had committed a lot of questionable acts in his life, had killed to earn his living, it was as simple and brutal as that, as much as he hated the fact, but he had never used senseless violence against a woman. He had killed women, yes, when they were assigned targets, but with all his targets he had made sure that death came as quickly and painfree as possible. Unlike some of the other guys he had never extended suffering needless, never had taken pride or joy from the pain he brought. Most of his targets didn't even see him coming, he used to be a silent killer. And even in his darkest days in Syria and Berlin he had always made sure death came quickly and inevitably.  
And he despised sexual violence and abuse, under all circumstances. He himself had been through too much in his own history of being a victim of abuse and torture, and he had seen too much war crimes around the world, including women being victims of unbelievable brutality.

And now, for the first time in his life, he had crossed that line, had hurt the one person who meant everything to him. And he didn't want to be that kind of man and was afraid that once this box had been opened, it might happen again, he just didn't trust himself anymore. For years his protectiveness for Carrie had defined his core, even in his darkest hours he always had known he could never hurt her, had brought himself into near death situations several times for her, this had been his straw to sanity - being the good guy - and now he himself had taken this away from him, because he had wanted to hurt her that evening. And it had aroused him and that was something he would never forgive himself. So he punished himself with the worst punishment he knew, staying away from what he needed most, because he didn't deserve her.  
But it was hard, and he was thankful and relieved whenever she reached out for him and gave him a reason to be with her. And when she didn't, he stayed downstairs, awake or slept in the downstairs bedroom alone, hoping she might come for him. But he didn't gather the strength to talk with her about what he felt, there was no way to vocalize his thoughts.

Still he thought a lot about his son. But the raw pain had been followed by a silent grief. He understood Julia, he himself probably would have done the same, because it was a fact: He had bailed on them on the day of John's birth, had purposefully walked out of the delivery unit without a word of goodbye, knowing he wouldn't come back. He couldn't even say he had been overwhelmed by his feelings because he hadn't felt anything, and he kind of had planned it, convinced it would be the best for everybody. The kid would live, he would sent money but not messing up Julia's and the kid's lives. It was only now, years later, that he would like to get to know John and offer him to be...whatever...maybe not a father, he had a father, but maybe a friend.

Needless to say his nightmares came back and happened more frequently again. But Carrie was always there, wherever in the house he had put himself to sleep, somehow she heard him and was there to talk him out of it and hold him.

It was three weeks after when she decided she couldn't go on like this. Frannie was in bed and they were listening some jazz in the living room when she took a deep breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't get angry, I know it's a shitty question to ask and I hate it myself but are you still taking your meds?"

"Meds like painkillers or for my kidneys?"

"No, meds like antidepressants."

He said nothing, just looked out of the window.

"Cause I think you still need them. And please don't get pissed because I tell you, I know how crappy it feels to be asked and reminded of these, but I'd want you to tell me if you noticed something and so I thought I should tell you too."

"Carrie, it's okay. You're right, I stopped these quite a while ago. Thought I didn't need them anymore." He looked lost and hurt and she closed the distance between them by bringing herself up to his lap.

"I'll have to take my array of pills as long as I live and I'm not saying that it's the same for you because it's obviously not, your situation is temporary but..."

"Is that so? What makes you so sure about that?" His voice was very quiet.

"Because I have a chronic mental illness, although it's well under control right now, well, mostly, that is, and you're perfectly sane, but I think you might be entering a depression." She hold her breath, now she had said it.

"You think so?" He hadn't the strength to argue with her. "I just wonder why I suddenly feel so much, and why it's so..."

"...painful?" she offered. He still didn't make eye contact. "You know, the thing with feelings is, you either feel nothing or everything. Once that well is open, there is no pick and choose, you get it all then."

"How was it for you?"

"Remember Islamabad? I was numb then, not feeling anything. And then my father died and I almost lost you, and then the clusterfuck with my mum, and you came and left, and suddenly I felt it all, love and loss, grief and pain, hope and despair. And it was painful. But I guess more healthy than Islamabad."

"When did it get better?"

"When I accepted that all these feelings belong to me and there is no healthy way to detach them. Being alive and human comes with all those emotions."

"That kind of sucks."

"Yeah, well, sometimes it does. But it get's better when you're used to it, and accept it. Gosh, I sound like my shrink."

"Well, then, Dr. Mathison, how about going to bed now?"

"Together?" Her voice was very quite.

He held her tight. "Together."

"Oh god, Quinn, I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. You have no idea how much." He made eyecontact for the first time and his voice was barely a whisper.

Carrie couldn't make sense out of it but decided to just let it go, he was here now, with her and that was enough for the moment.

She got up and took his hand and together they walked upstairs. In the bedroom she leant against the wall and pulled him closer.

"Undress me."

He hesitated for a brief second but then decided it was safe to give in to the yearning and did as she told him, not without kissing and caressing every square inch of the revealed soft white skin. She was melting under his touch and kisses, he could feel her pulse under his tongue and the heat radiating from her body. There was no measurement for the intensity of his love for her, this was all he ever wanted and he wished he would have words to express. When she was naked he took her hands and lead her to the bed, carefully indicating her to lay down. He quickly undressed himself, to time for grace and elegance. He laid down behind her and brought himself to spoon her delicate body. His arms went around her shoulders and waist and he started to fondle the breast in reach with one hand, while his other hand trailed small circles around her navel, slowly spiraling further south. He whispered words of love in her ear, incoherent bits and pieces but he knew he would be understood. When his left hand reached between her legs, she let out an encouraging moan and wiggled her soft buttocks backwards against his hard-on. Only then he started to apply some pressure and to rub himself against her ass. With two fingers he parted her labia and found her entrance already so wet and ready for him. She moved her upper leg and locked it around his knee, giving him full access to herself. The view he had from above her shoulder was fucking incredible and he couldn't help it but had to move quicker against her buttocks and apply more pressure while he started circling her clit with his index finger.

"Quinn, please, I need more of you, please..." her voice was just a soft whisper, her breathing fast and irregular.

He adjusted his own position a bit, steadied her hips for a couple of seconds with on hand and gently entered her from behind, without stopping his tender assaults to her breasts. Still, he used his other hand to stimulate her clit with slow circles. He started with slow long thrusts which she met immediatly by pushing back to him. When her breathing accelerated he increased the rhythm of his strokes. He moved back and forth, again building up force and rhythm and her moans were the sweetest encouragement he could think of. He knew she was already close, and so was he, but he wanted to go with her or make her come first. So he increased the pressure of his fingers and started to rub her nipples with his thumb while he kept thrusting into her with long strokes.  
For her, it was nothing short but complete surrender, she was locked under his body and helpless under his touch and wished it would never end. He synchronized his finger's laps around her clit now with his thrusts, each one deeper and deeper and she knew she was this close to climax when he flipped her on her belly with one quick movement and buried her under his bulk, not stopping to push into her and to moan into her ear. He brought a hand between the mattress and her body and stroke her clit again with greater urgency now while burying himself into her. He felt her clenching around him, her soft cries and muscle spasms indicating her climax, when his body stiffed and he felt his orgasm approaching, intense and carthatic.

"I know I often fail but I will never stop trying" he whispered in her ear "because you're the only one. Please don't stop loving me."

She laid completely still under his large and warm body, wondering how it was possible to feel so secure and sheltered. So she decided she didn't wanna break the moment by wiggling away or turning and just muttered "How could I not love you? Just _be_ with me, promise that." And with that, she was out and slid into sweet dreams. He stayed on top of her for a couple of more minutes and then arranged her in his arms, again spooning her from behind, before he went to sleep too, this night deep and peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written over the length of a couple of days, sleep-deprivated and in postnatal emotional overflow, just a bunch of lines every day, so it is a bit sentimental...but will get more positive soon again.


	43. Another date

After that night Quinn really tried. Small goals, like getting up before her and bring her a cup of coffee before she got up. He was always rewarded with a sweet smile or a kiss and he could tell she was observing him, trying to read how he was doing. The mornings when he wasn't in a good place she brought him breakfast to bed, sitting with him until he managed to get up, even if it was sometimes just for her, to make that worried look on her face to go away. That, or Frannie, who came in, sat next to him, asking if he was having a bad day and offering one of her cuddly toys for comfort and suggesting to call Aunt Maggie. That child has seen far too much for her age, he thought not for the first time.  
Carrie made him go for a run every day, saying physical activities were important especially when being depressed. And she made sure, there were enough other physical activities, more pleasant ones. 

She even started cooking proper dinners every night and made the effort to learn more dishes, because regular meals were important too, at least she said so. In a way she was right, because even on bad days he enjoyed their family dinners, the three of them around the table, chatting mostly about Frannie's day. And he had to give her that, most of what she cooked was edible, some dishes even delicious.

She got quite obsessive with touching him at every possible occasion, like brushing a hand over his nape when passing his chair or holding his wrist while waiting at a red traffic light during the commute. He didn't mind, quite the opposite, it felt like a constant reminder "You're not alone", both reassurance and a warning plea at the same time.

He had seen his agency shrink again, asking for antidepressants and had hated every second of the appointment. Of course he was not even considering to mention the night at the motel and his son and how these two issues painfully interfered. Nor was he going to tell the shrink about his fears related to what he had done to Carrie. But fucked up as he was there were enough other issues he could offer to get those damn pills. He didn't mention the appointment to Carrie but placed the vial in the bathroom next to her private pharmacy so she could see it. It would take some time until these would kick in anyway.

Still, he hadn't talked to her about his fears and these wouldn't just go away because of the pills, he was pretty sure about that. And still he didn't dare to loose himself during their nighttime pleasure. He knew he had to talk to her, but he didn't know how, he could barely think about it without wanting to bury himself right here and now. And he was afraid of what she might say if he stirred that memory again. So he procrastinated, day after day, but it didn't get better or easier, he felt like living on borrowed time.

His nightmares returned frequently and with full force these days and he couldn't count the nights he woke up, panic-soaked, scared and breathless, anymore. He hadn't touched anything stronger than an occasional beer or glass of wine after that night at the motel, but never was he so tempted as in those nights. But Carrie was always there. Holding him, talking to him, taking him to the shower or having a bath with him, reading a story or giving him a head or shoulder massage, whatever she thought might help, as he was completely useless then and had no idea what might do him good. 

 

\------------------------------

Being an analyst in Saul's team now gave him quite regular working hours, only every now and then he needed to come in very early for conference calls with European CIA stations, mostly Germany. He still liked those quiet hours at Langeley, reminded him of old days, when all-nighters had been anything but rare.

It was one of those mornings when he found a familiar figure sitting in his office, two cups of coffee and a box of donuts ready on the desk. He hadn't seen Dar since the last debriefing after Berlin and didn't feel a need to talk to him right now, but there was no way to avoid it, so he sighed and walked into his office.

"I'm glad, you made yourself comfortable. Am I late? Did we have an appointment?"

"Cut the crap. We don't have an appointment and we don't need one. Coffee? Donut?"

"I had breakfast at home, but thanks for the coffee."

"It's the first time I see you and you are not starving. Domestic life..."

"I have and do many things now I thought I never would. Regular meals among them, but clearly one of the lesser important changes."

"I see. Listen, I came to tell you some news from Germany. They're in the middle of the operation so there won't be anything official yet but your asset in that jihadist house and the devices the BND was able to put up there provided the intel. They were planning an attack with Sarin gas in Berlin, tomorrow, but BND is at it and will take them out today. There won't be anything in the news about it, they decided with the german government to keep it quiet, but I thought you should now. That was very good work."

"Sarin gas, uh? Honestly, I wouldn't have thought that those fuckers were able to orchestrate such a thing. Remember Gouta?"

"How could anyone forget? Yeah, sometimes we need a bit luck, but still you were right, to recruit and connect an asset there. I don't even want to think about what could've happened..."

"Where is Hussein now? Will there be collateral damage?"

"Your friend Astrid took him out soon enough, he is at a BND safe house now."

"What's gonna happen to him?"

"Düring found his remaining family members in Syria. They all get permanent asylum in Germany now. Not in Berlin though, somewhere else, with a new identity. He asked her to tell you good bye and thank you."

Quinn had to sit down now, this was too much for Friday morning before 6 am.

"I guess there won't be a conference call now, uhm?"

"No, not before the operation is finished."

"Do you mind if I have one of these donuts now?"

"Strawberry or chocolate?"

"Chocolate. You know that strawberry is probably just artificial crap?" 

Dar chuckled. "As if you were worried about my health."

For a while they sat in silence and Quinn wondered how this was possible, Dar and he, after all those years, but still was on alert.

"How are you doing now?"

Now, this caught him really by surprise.

"I'm fine."

"Cut that crap, Peter, I know you are not 'fine'."

"You're still reading my medical files then?"

"Call it an old habit. I care about my...about you."

At least he had swallowed the "my guy", credit where it's due, Quinn thought tiredly.

"What is it, you don't expect me to believe the random bullshit you told Mrs Shrink to get the pills, do you? I know you're made from tougher stuff. So there must be something new, something which isn't related to your last...adventures, because you felt good enough to go off meds months ago."

Quinn had to give him that his analysis was kind of hitting the nail, but even if hell froze over, he would not and under no circumstances speak with Dar among all people about what had triggered his current mental state. So he just leant back and crossed his arms over his chest. Dar was not his direct boss anymore and this was clearly a private matter so he hadn't to answer at all.

"I see, I won't get valuable insights here. Do you talk with her?"

"That's none of your business."

"No, it isn't. But it would be a pity if you didn't."

That got his attention and he looked at Dar. "How come you suddenly care? It's nothing new. Just that it's harder than I thought to come out of the shadows. Sometimes I think I can't escape the darkness but why would that bother you? Be happy about it, you were right."

"You were always striving to do the right thing. Did you ever read your parents' letters?" Quinn indicated a no by shaking his head, Dar sighed. "What do you think why I kept those for you all those years, when you don't read them then for like 20 years?"

"So you read them?"

"Of course I did. How should I've decided to keep them for you otherwise? Although I kind of knew most of what I found in them, your father was my best friend and your mother..."

Quinn was too curious now to notice the crack in Dar's voice when he mentioned his mother.

"All this whining about darkness, the sins committed and not finding a way out and not being sure to be worth it - your father said and wrote it all. And she kept begging him to try, for his and her sake but foremost for your sake. She was determined they could tackle anything as long as they were together and honest with each other. Lebanon was once again supposed to be his last mission, like five times before. And see where delaying and not communicating from your father's side brought them. Whereas she could have endured anything, she had that strength, whatever he had done or suffered, but the one thing she couldn't cope with was loosing him. If only he had trusted her to cope with his shit. What a waste."

"How come you know my mother so well?"

"Doesn't matter now. But you should not repeat the same mistakes. You are out now so go the whole way. You should talk to that crazy chick."

"You will never like Carrie, won't you?"

"You are the one who has to like her, but yes, I don't like her but I do admire her."

"Why's that?" He really was curious now.

"Apparently you arrived in Ramstein as a useless bag of tortured bones and muscles after you hadn't barely seen each other for - was it about three years? With just the short interruption in Berlin, where she rather sticked around with you after being shot instead of hiding or running for her own life. Three years ago she threatened me to learn about your whereabouts, in winter she threatened me with a gun to protect you from going into business with me again. And she took you in, when you were a dumb lunatic, being with you all the way since then. And frankly, I wouldn't have bet a dime on you in winter, according to what I read in your files and first reports from Ramstein. But she was all in and still is."

"Well, fuck, thank you." Nobody could phrase himself so well like Dar when it came to deliberate insults.

"So, no, I don't like her, and I disapprove a lot of her choices as an operative, and I am still angry with her for taking you out of my game, but I admire her for her strength and for her dedication to love you. So don't repeat your father's mistakes now, whatever it is, go home and tell her. You don't really believe that those agency shrinks are any help at all curing you from what you've been through, do you?"

"Well, you sent me there in the first place. And not for the first time."

"Because it's the common procedure. But let me tell you one more thing. I don't know a lot if men who came back from one of those cellars, having been through what you probably had to go through, but you came back, apparently still in quite a sane frame of mind. Did you ever ask yourself why?"

"I don't need to, I knew the answer all the way."

"Well, then act accordingly, man up and figure your shit out. You had reason to live, so live. I would hate it to let you out of the group and then you fuck it up. And read those letters sooner or later."

Dar raised and walked to the door while Quinn still sat and wondered how it was possible to be so utterly spent even before 6am, damn, was he tired.

"You can thank me later" Dar scoffed and was through the door.

\---------------------------------

He came home later than he had expected and hoped for, there were a lot of calls with Germany later that day, he even managed to speak briefly with Astrid, but there wasn't much she could tell him on phone. But she and Düring would be in New York at the UN assembly end of September and she suggested for him and Carrie to come up for a weekend and meet them there. He liked the idea. 

It was nearly 6 pm when he arrived home and felt like he desperatly needed to rest. Carrie was in the kitchen, apparently cooking dinner, which seemed to be a bigger affair, judged by the mess the kitchen was.

She came to kiss him and he tasted a hint of a familar aroma.

"Uhm, mango again?"

"Yes. But you're late today. Are you ok? You look awful tired."

"I am. A lot of stuff went on in Germany today."

"You know what? Why don't you lay down for a while, while I finish cooking and we talk then? You look like you really need a break."

"Sure, you don't need help?"

"It's not that you're a great help when it comes to cooking. I see you in an an hour, dinner will be ready then" she giggled.

An hour later, after a nap and shower, he indeed felt better. Coming back to the living room and kitchen he was suprised, Carrie had set the table for two, lit some candles, he smelled delicious food, Thai he figured, and Carrie was wearing a very nice dress - and it was very warm in the room. Strange thing for late summer, to light a chimney fire, he thought. Just then he realized, this was exactly the setting of one of their dates, the night when they had made love the first time.

She watched him from over the chimney, where she lit a candle on the mantle piece and probably read his face.

He was with her with two long steps, pulled her close and breathed her name, an aching pain of guilt in his chest.

"Did I miss anything?"

"No, not anything special. It's just we hadn't any date recently. And when you started that, you said you want us to have happy memories to go back to when..." she hesitated for a second " when we are not in such a good place." she phrased carefully.

"Aren't you happy anymore?" He was genuinly scared about her answer.

"I haven't said that. I just felt we need to cherish what we have, and remember what it took us to get here. And...it's not that I got a lot from you lately, and I know you probably can't, also I don't always understand why, so I can just keep trying to make it easier, for you...and for myself..." She had always been the most honest person, he had to give her that and her statement made him very sad. Of course she had noticed, and he had to talk to her, tonight, Dar was right, there was no way to delay it any further.

"Carrie...please...I know...and if you want I'll try to explain, although it's difficult....but please know it's not about you, it's...."

"Let's have dinner first and then we talk. I know it's difficult. For me too." She kissed him, long, lingering. "But we are worth it."

Dinner was indeed delicious and they had a long conversation about the recent events in Germany, with Carrie being visibly shaken by the dimension of the averted attack.

"This would've been Germany's own 9/11. Probably would've changed everything in the EU too, given the fact it's one of the very few countries still having open borders for refugees there. Would probably been the end to Merkel's chancelorship and the end to open borders within the EU. And just think about all the possible victims."

"I know. Astrid said they are pretty sure they made the whole cell but they are still trying to tackle some of the masterminds. And, question is, where did they get the Sarin gas from. There is a weak connection to the Russians, they are working on that angle now, which brings Allison's scheme back to the picture."

"God, Quinn, aren't you dying to go there and work on it with the BND? Hussein has been your asset, you found that cell."

"I've been asking that myself today. Part of me would like that. But the bigger part doesn't want to travel right now. And I wouldn't be any bigger help there then from here, given my weak German. I am just glad, Hussein is safe. I would have hated if I'd put him in harm's way. Maybe my days of being an active badass are just over. I'm changing, probably getting old."

"You are fishing for compliments here and I am not receptive to that kind of blackmail. But I'm really curious about the russian involvement here."

"I guess, we'll hear more about it over the next weeks, but Astrid and Otto want to meet us in New York end of September, so we can get the full story then, if you want to go."

"I'd like that. But Astrid and Otto? Together? Or just travelling together?"

"No, together." 

"So, they finally figured it out and found a way, I'm glad."

"Speaking of figuring it out..." It was hard, because it would have been so easy to just sit with her and talk. Conversations like these always made him miss the old days when they were still working together, and he knew he was happy to be with someone who knew the harsh reality of his job well enough to be able to have a normal conversation about these rather grim topics. And she immediatly saw the bigger picture. It would be easy to spend the evening discussing the averted attack and its implications on european politics and the situation of the refugees camping at the european borders, later then maybe changing to lighter topics, and he knew she wouldn't push him to talk, and probably if he walked over to the other side of the table right now and bend down to kiss her, all talking would be forgotten anyway and he could have the most pleasant of all evenings. But it wouldn't help in the long run, his sorrows still would be the same afterwards, and hers too, she had told him she was worried, so he just had to. But it was so fucking difficult.

"I need to talk to you. And let me get things straight in the beginning, this is not about you, this is not about leaving, it's not about going on a mission, it's about something else, don't you worry, ok?"

He saw her shoulders visibly relaxing. "Can we sit on the couch?" There was no way to express what he had to while looking at her. So once they were on the couch, he pulled her close, head on his shoulder, so he could speak into the direction of the now empty room, while focusing on the flames in the chimney. She said nothing, just took one of his hands in her hands and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles, reassuringly. He sighed deeply.

"About the depression...you were right. I saw a shrink and I got those pills and it should get better soon. And I want to thank you for being with me through it. And I promise to get better. But there is something else..." his voice tapered off, he took another deep breath "Do you remember the last night at the motel? Wait, this is a stupid question, of course you do, but I need to talk about that night."

And then he told her, with a very silent voice, at some points thick from tears, about his remorse and sorrow. When she tried to wiggle out of his embrace to make eyecontact he asked her not to. "I can't talk about it while looking at you, I just can't." So she went back to holding his hand in hers.

"I am so scared, Carrie, I don't want to be that kind of man. And can I ever be with you, and more important, how can you ever be with me, without remembering what I did? How can you ever trust me again? For years, all I ever wanted was protecting you and then it is me hurting you in the most despicable way. How can I trust myself ever again?" The pain in his voice was unmasked and heartbreaking.

"Quinn, don't put this on you..."

"I mean it. Given my history, I of all people..." She dived out of his embrace quicker than he could react and came to sit on his lap, straddling him. Her hands went on his cheeks and with surprisingly firm power she forced him into eyecontact.

"Quinn, I mean it, don't put this on you. First, these were extraordinary circumstances, and it's not that I was an innocent bystander, I made you go there, unprepared and therefore most vulnerable. Second, I knew what I was in for when I came to the motel and saw you, halfway around the bend, and I could have left, actually you asked me to leave. But I didn't. Third, no harm was done, nothing I couldn't stand. Forth, you apologized, numerous times, and I accepted. Fifth..." her stern expression softened "I promised you, you'd never have to speak again about your childhood, so you don't have to go there now. I get it. And you're not that man, you're not, and I know that. And I would never hold that against you. How could I, after all I got from you? You and I, we're into something good, so don't take this away from you, from us. Please."

He looked at her, raw, vulnerable, and she knew she had to release him. But how? 

"Besides, even if I haven't been activly on a mission for quite a while, my self-defense skills are still good enough for disabling your precious manhood long enough to make an escape, if I felt it was necessary, that is. But I didn't think so." Actually, she wasn't really sure if she could hurt him long and strong enough, probably just with the benefit of surprise on her side, given his strength and training, but he would never know. And he would never know she wasn't intending to find out, not at all. She just had to play her cards well now, to make an end to his guilt-trip.

He looked at her doubtfully. 

"It's a disgrace and an insult for my professional honor how you look at me. Probably seeing me every day in a domestic enviroment did that. Let me show you." She was up and leant against the wall. "Come closer." He did as he was told. "Now lean into me and hold my wrists." He was very close now, she felt his warmth and weight against her chest. "And now kiss me." He did, softly. "Oh God, Quinn, not like this. You know what to do, come on. Harder, more demanding." That wasn't too hard, he could try that, as it was only a play now. She went with him and it was a proper kiss, actually the best they had in weeks, she thought. She decided to let it last a bit longer. "And now push against me." He obeyed, although he was kind of trying to brace for the pain which would hit him soon and inevitable. He got it, she wanted him to be completely engaged in more pleasurable things and hit him by surprise then. Well, it wasn't that he didn't deserve it. And it would take a while, afterwards, to feel that pleasure again, so he tentatively pressed his hips against her, surprised by the soft moan that earned him. So he did it again, same result. She bit him in his lower lip and pulled him closer. "You really have to try to ... well, to keep me here, otherwise it wouldn't count." He couldn't help it, but he started enjoying this, odd as it was, with her so close, and now she even raised her hips against his crotch and if he didn't know better he would've thought she was starting to enjoy this too, at least the way she was kissing him now was indicating that, her tongue exploring his mouth, her teeth grazing his lip, what the hell, he just kissed her back, with the same fervor and urgency. It was a while, when she finally breathed in his mouth "Do I really have to hurt you now?" 

He didn't stop kissing her, and noticed that at some point somehow his left hand had landed on her breast, fondling it greedily, she seemed to appreciate it, so he didn't stop, but managed to moan "I certainly do deserve it, so go for it, if you want to."

"It's just...it would be a pity to ruin this." As he still had her hands pinned above her head, she used her hips to wiggle against his hardon.

"Then don't. It's up to you." He went on kissing her, now releasing her hands to have both hands to caress her breasts. Her arms went around him immediatly, one hand in his hair, pulling shy of painful, the other one firmly pressing into his ass, while she raised one leg around his hips and pulled him close. He relinquished her mouth and moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and licking, while he started to unbutton her dress and dropped down on his knees in front of her to engulf one of her nipples with his mouth. No bra, just a silky top with a button tab, interesting choice, he thought, and so handy right now, just a couple of buttons more and full access to her gorgeous breasts.

"Oh my god, Quinn, please don't stop, it's too good and it's been too long."

He didn't intend to stop anytime soon but briefly replaced his tongue by his fingers. "Does that mean, I'm off the hook, mercy instead of justice?"

"That's for me to know and for you to find out, right now, let's call it you are on probation." He liked her wicked grin and brushed a thumb over her nipple. "So, just for my clarification, if I please you, I'll get your mercy? Just say so and I'll make you beg." He rubbed the other nipple and she inhaled sharpely but pushed him back. 

"You know what? Actually you're the one who's going to beg soon. Lay down." 

He did as he was told while she stepped out of her dress and seeing her in her silk lingerie did very bad things with his self control, he knew he was staring at her well beyond politeness. She giggled when she saw him ogling.

"You like it? I bought it for you, as you once said on phone..." Suddenly she had slightly flushed cheeks and looked insecure. And he could just eat her up.

"Like it is not exactly the word." His voice was hoarse from desire. "You are so beautiful and I am such a fool. I want you, please come here." And then she was on top of him, kissing him, her lips and tongue everywhere, rocking her hips against his crotch, the smooth and cool silk an intensly erotic contrast to her hot and soft skin. Not long and he was naked, already so ready to fill her with himself and have her. He felt like he was nothing but liquid emotion and he wanted her so badly. When he reached out to pull her closer, she was reluctant. "Not yet, tough boy, not yet. I told you, I'll make you beg." She sat up and looked down at his face, her pupils fully dilated from lust and arousal. "Close you eyes, will you?" He did as he was told and felt her moving next to him. He felt the silk of her vest on his chest, elusive and delicate, and then her soft hands on his face. Her lips were next to his ear now, whispering. "Trust me, ok? Will you do that for me? This will only go so far tonight and I'll stop as soon as you tell me. And I won't hurt you. And you didn't hurt me." It was a release.  
He felt a piece of cool fabric over his eyes and her deft fingers binding it around his head. "I won't tie your hands, we'll do that another day, but just to keep your eyes blindfolded and let me take care of you."  
He felt his hearbeat quicken and so did she, he could tell, because she wound her arms around him and started to kiss him, slowly in the beginning, as if she was testing the water, and when he deepened the kiss and pulled her closer, again more passionately.  
Her hands were all over his body and it was a strange but welcome experience how much the loss of his sight intensified what he felt. And the fear was gone. This was Carrie, shielding his soul, so he could finally let it go.

At some point she had gotten some oil and started to massage him with firm pressure and circles, followed by soft caresses, his whole body. He had lost track of time, it had felt like hours and seconds at the same time. And it was so fucking good.

He was in a delirious stage, overstimulated and so willing to do anything to please her and to find his own release and she hadn't even come close to his cock yet. He felt she was naked now, both of their bodies slick from oil and sweat when she spread herself on top of him and suddenly rubbed her cleft against his hardon, just enough to stimulate herself and more than enough to blow his mind.

"Carrie, please...more of this..."

"See, I told you, you would beg...", she did it again and he groaned. His hands came up and firmly pressed down her ass.

"Don't stop that. Please...Carrie...I need you...now..."

She slid down, and pulled him on top of her, her legs were widely spread now as he entered her. She was so tight, so hot around his shaft and so pliant under his body.

"Oh my god, Quinn, I want you, you have no idea, how much I want you." 

He was starting to fuck her with slow, deep strokes when he suddenly felt her slowing down his attempts. He had no time to question because before he could muster a concious thought he felt a soft, long, oily finger circling the entrance of his back passage. 

"Quinn?" She breathed his name like a question.

"Yes, Carrie, please, I want this, please." His voice was shaking, and she could hear his desire.

The finger, slippery as it was, slid in easily, while she started to rock and cant her hips against his, she was slowly fucking him from two sides now, and the sheer and pure force of his sensations teared down all his regrets and restraints. He let out an almost animalistic grunt and slammed himself deep into her, pubic bones clashing, while he consumed her lips, kissed her like he was drowning, in a desperate need to be with her, to have her, to possess her, his hands on her face and her breasts.

"Fuck me, Quinn, fuck me harder, please, don't stop now, just fuck me."

"I won't stop. I can't. You are mine, just mine. I'll have you now, and then again and again. I'll make you cum and I'll fuck you senseless."

Her finger was working him while he penetrated her with forceful strokes, deeper and deeper, everything else just forgotten. She probably would have burn marks on her back and ass later as each stroke pushed her a few centimeters upwards on the floor but she didn't care, quite the opposite. She forced her finger another tiny bit deeper, back and forth, his final barrier snapped, fucking self-control finally gone, and he drove himself into her, a few more forceful thrusts while panting her name, and that shot them both deliriously over the edge. She clinged to his shoulder, fingernails dug into his skin, he felt it cracking, a welcome pain, and he felt her muscle spasms working his prick, bringing on another wave of his orgasm which was nothing short but intense frenzy. The last thing he caught before loosing his hearing was her screaming his name.

His ass twitched with irregular surges and her intense grip on him was his only connection to reality, he felt like floating, a disembodied matter attaining nirvana.

It was long after when she finally stirred.

"God, you are getting heavy."

He grunted.

"What was that?"

"Does it mean I have to move now?"

"Yes please."

"I can't. I died. I'm in paradise. They don't make you move there. That's why it's paradise."

"Fucking move, otherwise I'll die. From suffocation. Explain that to the police."

With another groan he rolled off her. "Ouch, that floor is hard."

"Well, tell me about it. You had the comfy spot, I was your pillow."

He pulled the blindfold away and looked at her. She was a mess. Oily, sweaty, tossled hair, swollen lips and flushed cheeks and so beautiful. And she looked extremely pleased with herself, like a sated cat.

He pulled her close with one arm, her head on his shoulder.

"Does anyone else know about your skills to exorcise demons?"

"No, that's just between the two of us."

"Good. How do you feel about a bath?"

"I'd like that. But only if you carry me there, I think I can't walk right now."

"Whatever you want." He softly kissed her. "I once again owe you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laure asked me a couple of weeks ago to redeem Dar a bit, so Laure, the conversation between Quinn and Dar is for you ;-)


	44. Being a family

When Carrie woke up the next morning it took her a moment to register where she was and how she probably got there. Quinn was already awake, apparently for some time, as he had a mug with steaming coffee and the newspaper, smiling down at her.

"Hey, good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"I did. You too? You're looking like you're having a good day today."

"How could I not, after last night?" He reached out with one hand to cup her cheek.

"How did we get here? I can't remember going to bed."

"No, I bet, you can't." His eyes crinkled over his coffee mug. "You passed out in the bathtub, right after I had washed your hair."

"Oh, I remember that. That was so good..."

"Yeah, you said so. And next thing was your head rolling back against my shoulder and you were non-responsive and snoring. So I carried you over here and tucked you in."

He got up to get her some coffee and when she reached out for the mug she felt her shoulders and back aching, bringing up some pleasant memories from the previous night. And he looked rested, calm, and last night had been, yeah, well...

He crawled under the blanket again, put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She felt his chin on top of her head and relaxed against his shoulder. "About last night...that was incredible...carrying you to bath and bed was the least I could do. And it felt good to be back in charge, as you did most of...uhm, the work before."

"I always knew that deep in your heart you are a patriachal antediluvian." He liked the smile in her voice.

"Have a problem with that?"

"No, actually, I don't. I like it. As long as I am allowed to take the lead every now and then, when I just know better than you what's good for us, this comes quite handy. I get carried to bed, get breakfast in bed and I bet if I'd ask you to take Frannie and me out for dinner tonight you wouldn't say no, would you?"

He kissed her on top of her head. "No, I wouldn't. And I am very glad you overpowered my poor judgement last night."

"Don't leave me out in the cold again, will you? I need you, too." Her voice was suddenly quiet and serious.

His arm tightened around her shoulder and he caressed her bare arm with his hand, warm as ever.

"I won't promise you "I won't", because sometimes things just happen, unindented and unwanted, I guess, we both just are who and how we are, but I'll try. And I promise, as soon as you tell me you feel locked out, I'll try to change that. Will that be enough? At least for now?"

"I think so." She snuggled into his warmth.

"But I need you to make a promise too."

"Uhm?"

"You have to talk to me. Even when I'm down or being a selfish prick or a depressed asshole, make yourself heard. Your needs are as important as mine. I don't want us to have a relationship which is just centered around my needs, my inabilities and limitations and my condition. And I will try to talk to you as well." He pressed a kiss on her temple, a tender gesture, and she felt safe and secure.

"Can I ask you something then, right now?"

"Sure."

"I wasn't snooping, it fell out when I cleaned the living room and put the books back on the shelf. But I found a checque, worth a hundredthousend Dollars. Why do you keep such thing in a book?"

In spite of the topic, he still had to smile. "Oh Carrie, Number 1 - why don't you ask what it is instead of why I kept it in a book, because that's what you really wanna know. And Number 2 - we are living here together, so you don't have to apologize for getting your hands on my stuff."

"Okay, then, what is it?"

"It's a checque Julia wrote me, she gave me back all the child support I ever paid, she never used any of it and she made pretty clear that she doesn't want to see neither me nor my money in future."

It was not that Carrie hadn't presumed it, and of course she had seen Julia's name on it but hearing him saying it was still sad. She briefly wondered how she and Brody would have worked it out as Frannie's parents if Brody had not died, if he would be involved in Frannie's life and if she'd accept his money even if (when) they had chosen not to be together. Given what she had with Quinn now had made her re-consider her relationship with Brody quite honestly with herself and it was much more of a "when" as an "if", she thought.

Quinn's voice had been very even, too even in fact, when he had mentioned the nature of the checque and the money.

She put her mug on her nightstand and turned to him. "Why don't we lay down a bit longer, Maggie won't expect us before noon, and I'd like to snuggle a bit."

She pulled him back onto the mattress and snuggled into him, her head on his shoulder, her arm over his chest, silent for quite a while, before she spoke again.

"I know it's still hard." She reached out for his hand and held it tight while she felt his arm folding around her shoulder, pulling her closer.

"Yeah, but that ship has sailed. And I will have to learn to live with it, it's not that I did too much to prevent it within the last years. But I'll always regret." She placed a kiss on his cheek, there wasn't much to say, but she wanted him to feel understood.

"What are you going to do with the money? I guess you won't want to spend it or keep it either."

"That's true. Actually I don't really know."

"I might have an idea. Why don't you talk to Otto, maybe he can use it for a project in one of the camps. A school maybe or a health clinic. In case you wouldn't want to out it aside for John, a trust fund maybe."

He let the idea sink in for a while. "Actually, I do have a trust fund for John. He'll get access when he's twenty-one. I'd like to set up one for Frannie as well, by the way, if you don't mind."

She was silent for a while, trying to find the right words. This was one of the first proper conversations they ever had about his son and she didn't want to ruin it right away but the idea of him spending money for Frannie needed some further inquiry. She had conflicting emotions about that.

"Why would you do such a thing? I can pay for Frannie's needs."

"It feels like the right thing to do, considering I have one for John." He rolled over to prop himself up on an elbow and to look at her. "Maybe it's time we talk about money."

"Why?"

"Carrie, as I said, we are living here together, we are sharing a life, constantly. We should talk about it, sooner or later, because that's what couples do. They talk about sharing expenses. For instance, that I am living here for nearly nine months now and don't pay anything."

"You do pay for food when you get groceries and you get stuff for Frannie and you bought that furniture."

"Yeah, and I pay forgotten electricity bills when I find them under a pile of old newspapers. But I am talking about substantial things, like mortgage, insurances or daycare for Frannie."

"The house is paid. I had enough savings, it's not a big house, and I never spent a lot, especially during the years overseas when living quarters were provided and danger bonus was part of my salary. So there is nothing substantial to pay for right now."

"Well, then, to be open and honest, as you mention danger bonus and in my case extra combat payments, I never spent anything, never. My lifestyle didn't include...well, whatever." His voice trailed off, saying it loud made him once more aware how empty his life had been until just a few month ago. And how glad he was about what he had now.

She sensed his mood and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. "I know but that was before."

"So I happen to have more money, then I'll ever be able to spend - although I still insist on paying a bigger share of our joint expenses - so it feels right to put a chunk a aside for both kids. Or is that, I don't know, to possessive, do you feel I'm invading your space here?"

She felt a warm wave in her stomache, patriarchal or not, the way he included Frannie into his considerations made her happy beyond words.

"No, it's just that I never expected someone except me to take care for Frannie. I'm used to do it on my own and I don't need you to provide any financial support. But it makes me happy how you feel about Frannie. But it's your choice, you don't need to do that, I can do it on my own."

"I know you can. But I'd like to."

"But you know, in a couple of years, when she is remembering her childhood, she won't think about money. She'll remember you on the trampoline with her, you teaching her how to swim, you reading books with funny voices, going to the zoo...that kind of stuff. Happy memories."

He was silent for a while.

"You think so?"

"I do. That's how I remember my dad. Happy moments and that he was there for me."

"I'd like that." She wasn't exactly sure but thought his voice might be a bit husky. She tightened her grip around his hand and felt him squeeze back.

"But I really like your idea about giving money to the Foundation, maybe even some more then the unwanted child support. Maybe I should talk with Otto about it when we see him. Sometimes, your ideas are pretty brilliant."

She smiled and he bent down to kiss her, saying "Finish your coffee, I'm having some brilliant ideas how to spend the rest of the morning."

 

\--------------------------------

Things got much better after that weekend. It was not all sunshine and roses but it felt like a huge burden finally getting lighter. Quinn still had bad days, everyone has, she thought, but she finally was ok with him having bad days without fearing to loose him every time. And he felt he was indeed slowly getting better - and this time didn't stop the pills right away but went on taking them. John was no longer a forbidden topic, they were finally able to speak about his past, his fatherhood and his regrets.

The only strict rule she had set up was not to sleep alone anymore, even when he was up late, his thoughts every now and then still a carousel of pondering regrets, Carrie usually came downstairs again at around 1 am and took him upstairs.

The New York weekend with Otto and Astrid came and Carrie found herself really looking forward to it. Maggie had suggested to take two days off and make a long weekend out of it and so they had spent two days there alone before Astrid and Otto arrived - their first time away just as a couple.

The biggest surprise for Quinn had been Saturday afternoon, when he had indicated after lunch to Otto he wanted to speak about a project, Astrid had suggested for the "girls" to go for a walk alone "as the wheather is too beautiful to spend the day inside". They had been away for the length of the afternoon and came back in a very good mood, Carrie seemed relaxed and happy. They had not only been out for a walk but visited a gallery as well, finding out they both liked contempory photography.

After a long and cheerful dinner and a couple of drinks in a jazz bar it was that night in the hotel when he told her about his conversation with Otto, they were indeed going to fund jointly a school and a clinic in a refugee camp in Jordan.

"You think, I could join Otto one day for a trip there, not right away, but when you feel ok with me travelling to the Middle East?"

"You would like going there, wouldn't you?"

"Sooner or later, yes. But just a few days."

"Do I have to decide now?"

"No, of course not."

"I guess, I'll always be fearful when you travel, especially so close to warzones. But I understand you probably should go. But only if Astrid's going too."

"Why is that?" He was genuinly curious.

"Because Otto is a lost cause when it comes to security issues and careful decisions. It was a close call, last year. I'd join you myself but I don't want us to be away on such a trip together and leave Frannie behind...if worse comes to worse. And I guess he'd listen to Astrid. So having her there would make me feel much better."

Sometimes, women were just strange, he thought but decided not to inquire further and he wasn't planning to go anytime soon anyway. They had spent a splendid evening, lovely food and drinks, interesting conversations, just a normal couple with friends, in the most positive way of "normal", so he just pulled her in closer and whispered how much he wanted to make love to her right now, in that wonderful soft bed.

Their love making that night was a slow bout, gentle and tender, they took their time, exploring and indulging each other and he didn't stop to whisper words of love into her ear. She had no idea what had brought up this romantic outburst on that very day, actually she could not know that he had been on the verge of proposing to her all weekend. Quinn had been trying to find the right words several times but never managed to feel satisfied with what his mind could come up with. So he hadn't yet. 

And right now, although he really wanted to say something meaningful, substantial, it didn't feel like the right moment either, somehow he always had imagined that asking her for marriage should happen when they were dressed. But still, he just needed to tell her how he felt.

So he held her close in his arms, afterwards, muttering into her ear "It's ok for you that I want to be a family with you and Frannie? Or is that too much, too early to ask for? I have no idea, how that works, but I just want to belong to you, and Frannie. That's what I want."

She had to swallow back tears. "We are a family, in every way that matters."


	45. An unexpected visit

It was the Friday after they had returned from New York. Carrie had picked up Frannie from daycare and spotted an unknown car opposite her driveway when they came home. 

She was just about to prepare a snack for Frannie, some cut fruits and a couple of crackers, actually that was all they had in storage, this being the reason while Quinn did a detour to the supermarket on the way home, and was trying to figure out through the kitchen window if she could see who was sitting in the car, when the driver's door and one of the passenger doors in the back opened.

She saw a dark haired, small, slender woman with a beautiful face and, oh my god, she thought, oh my god, I am so not prepared for this.

The boy was tall for an eight year old, and under different circumstances his similarity with Quinn would have been ridiculous. Right now, it took her breath away. She herself knew very well how it felt to look at your child and see a constant reminder of the father , especially when Frannie had been smaller that had been unbearable.

The boy looked hesitant, his mother talked to him, while he folded his arms over his chest and looked away. Despite all her other feelings, Carrie had to smile, this looked so familiar.

Finally, the boy shrugged his shoulders, took a deep breath and they crossed the street.

Oh, fuck me, Carrie thought, realizing they would ring their doorbell in less than five seconds and it was herself who was going to open the door and face whatever was coming until Quinn was coming home. And she didn't really now how he would handle that surprise. Fuck, she felt nauseous, nervos and frightened. She briefly considered not to open the door but she couldn't do that to Quinn.

So when the bell rang a second later she briefly checked her appearance in the mirror, janked her office jacket away and straightened the blouse she wore beneath it, took a deep breath and opened the door.

The woman gave her a half smile and a scrutinizing look, while Carrie tried to keep a neutral face, friendly and open. 

"Hello, I am sorry to disturb you but we are looking for J...for Peter Quinn. He gave me this adress. My name's Julia."

"I know who you are." There was no reason to hide that, she decided. "I'm Carrie. Why don't you come in? Peter's not home yet, but should be here soon."

While she moved away from the door to let the visitors in, Frannie came back downstairs, taking the last three steps with one jump, landing right before John as he entered the hallway.

"Mummy, I am hungry. Who's that?"

"Frannie, this is not how we greet visitors. Say hello."

"Hello. Who are you?"

"John."

"I'm Frannie."

"Frannie, why don't you take John outside to the trampoline? Snacks will be ready in a minute."

Julia and she still stood in the hallway, and Carrie just thought, if that's not a fucking awkward situation, then I don't know.

"Is she his?" Julia broke the silence.

Straight to the point, wow, Quinn likes his women to be blunt. Well, I can do that too.

"She's not his biological daughter, but he is her father in every other way."

"Same with my husband and John. What happened to her...biological father?"

"He died when I was pregnant. He was a soldier and his last tour had an unfortunate outcome."

"I'm sorry for your loss. Since when are you and John together?"

"Peter, it's Peter." She saw the flicker of pain in the other woman's eyes and even if she knew she had no right to she felt a sudden flash of anger against Quinn that she had to deal with his betrayal. Over the last months she had felt nothing but anger against Julia for the suffering she was causing. But now, standing next to her in her hallway, she suddenly realized the pain that woman must have suffered herself, and that they had some similarities.

"We know each other for a long time" she finally answered. Quinn's and her history and relationship wouldn't be discussed here. "Why did you come?" She just had to know, because she would be the one dealing with Quinn afterwards, whatever it was.

"Peter came to see me a few weeks ago, as you probably know. I told my husband about his visit. I never intended to speak to my son about him. Ted - that's my husband - for the first time didn't agree, said if Peter came once, he might come again and that John should know the truth and hear it from us. So we told him. And a few days ago he asked me if he could see his..." her voice trailed off. Yeah, well, there's really no word for it, Carrie thought, because the kid has a father, just like Frannie chose Quinn, so how do you call the other person?

"Does your daughter know about her other father?"

Carrie felt a pang of guilt thinking back to that massive fight with Quinn, which finally had brought her and Julia here, into that very conversation. But she wouldn't share that story, it was time to get the upper hand here and try to be helpful for Quinn's case, as she figured he would be quite lost when he came home soon, emotional surprises were really not his cup of tea. And neither mine, she thought.

"Certainly she does. Although it's a difficult topic. But we made sure she knows, I think, it is her right to know where she is from. She says she has two dads. Kids' ability to adapt and cope can be amazing. But why don't move outside too, sit there and I'll get some snacks?"

She needed some time to regroup, this was far to much for a Friday afternoon. She wasn't sure if she should hope for Quinn being home soon or if that would make it only worse. 

After she had guided Julia the way to the terrace and spotted Frannie and John on the trampoline, quite happily, she returned to the kitchen, calling Maggie.

"Maggie, I can't explain right know but I need your help. Could you bring cookies, muffins, whatever you have in your pantry for snack? And maybe some icetea or lemonade. And please bring the girls, I'll explain later, but I need you."

After that was done, she poured herself a healthy sip of white wine, extraordinary circumstances...

She toyed with the idea to text Quinn but a car accident on the way here wouldn't be that helpful and there wasn't really a way how to prepare what was about to happen in the garden soon, so she didn't.

Maggie and the girls arrived in a rush, Maggie obviously worried.

"What is it, Carrie" she asked as soon as the girls had disappeared towards trampoline.

Carrie took a deep breath. "Remember, I once told you, Quinn has a son, living in Philly, he never saw? Well, that son is jumping on the trampoline right now while his mom sits on the terrace waiting for snacks, oh, and her ex."

"Geez, Carrie..."

"Yeah, exactly...and she is like, I don't now, like we are girlfriends, asking all kinds of stuff, if he's Frannie's father, how long we are together, if Frannie knows her father...Shit, Maggie, I am so bad at this. And if I ruin this...he was so devastated when she didn't allow him to make contact with his son a few weeks ago..."

"Carrie, stop it. You won't ruin it. They drove here all the way from Philadelphia. This is serious, they mean it. She won't leave after 10 minutes just because she doesn't like your cookies."

"If only I had some..."

"You have now. The girls and I have been baking today."

"Thank you, Mags. I just need her to like us. Can the girls stay here and play? "

"Of course. Call me if you need anything. And Carrie...?"

"Yeah?"

"You can do this. You are very likeable person. Just stay calm and don't freak out. You can do this."

"Okay...if you say so...thank you, Maggie."

She set a tray with a jar of icetea, glasses and a cookie plate. All four kids were on the trampoline now and so there was no distraction or reason not to communicate with Julia again. So she forced herself to sit down and poured icetea in two of the glasses.

"Looks like they are having a good time."

"Who are the girls? Neighbor's kids?"

"My nieces. My sister and her family live a few houses down the lane."

"That's nice, to have family so close."

"It is. Sometimes it's a lifesaver." In the most literal sense, she thought silently.

"It's strange and maybe I shouldn't ask, but how does Peter fit in here? When I...met him and John was born, he just wasn't cut out for...this..." she made a gesture with her hand to the garden and the kids on the trampoline, "...and his job was always more important than anything else. "

"People can change. He changed. Or maybe not so much at all, but he finally let this job behind him." And this allowed him to admit and accept, what he so much wants and needs. And I changed too, learnt to accept what I need and want - and to allow myself to love and be loved. And it's a fucking miracle that we figured it out, together, she thought, but that's between him and me. "He knows he fucked it up with your son, he told me about his regrets for the first time years ago." She still remembered the day in the parking lot at Langeley, when he had waited for her. His eyes had been so sad. And she had been too deep down in the rabbit hole to really care. But he had been right, Frannie was a gift. Only it took me some time to recognize.

"But he never called, never visited."

"But he would like to do that now."

"He said so."

Carrie heard the front door closing and raised to catch Quinn inside. Usually he went upstairs right after coming home to change his clothes but she was afraid that an open terrace door and voices outside would make him come outside first.

"I'll be back in a minute. - Kids, snacktime."

Quinn was indeed upstairs, she found him in their bedroom, changing into jeans and a t-shirt. 

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. The supermarket was a madhouse. Why do people always remember they need to run errands Friday afternoons?"

"Uhm, maybe for the same reasons we remember it on Friday afternoons, because the fridge is fucking empty?!"

"How many kids are you entertaining in that yard? Sounds like at least twenty. I am a bit afraid of going outside."

He caught her expression. "Jeez, Carrie, I'm just kidding." He pulled the shirt over his head.

She stepped closer and put her arms around his waist and waited until he had his arms around her shoulders.

"Hey, everything alright?"

She took a deep breath. "It's not twenty kids. It's the usual three plus one more. Quinn, Julia and John are here."

First, he said nothing, but she felt his heartbeat quicken. He let go of her and sat down and the end of the bed, running his hand through his hair.

"Shit, Carrie, here? In our house? Why? What am I supposed to do?"

"Here, in the garden, drinking icetea. They told him, and apparently he said he wants to meet you. So I guess, you go out now and, uhm, well, meet him. He's a cute kid. Looks like your mini-me. And I cook dinner."

"Your not going outside now?"

"No, I guess, you should do that alone. I'll join later."

"Let's just hope I don't fuck this one up."

She joined him on the bed and squeezed his hand. "You won't. They came here, to see you, this is a good thing."

He squeezed back, kissed her briefly, took a deep breath and got up. She watched him leaving the room and heard his steps on the stairs. All I can do now is to hope for the best, she thought, and raised herself to go downstairs and prepare dinner.

But she couldn't resist to have a look out of the window into the garden. All four kids were gathered around the table, drinking icetea and munching some cookies, when Quinn appeared outside. She couldn't hear what he was saying as the window was closed but Julia looked towards him and said something in response. Frannie smiled at him and said something too, and he tossled her hair. Then he sat down, opposite of John. As Carrie saw only his back, she couldn't make out whether he was talking to the boy but John eyed him carefully over his glass and gave a very shy tiny lopsided smile. Carrie knew that Quinn's expression probably mirrored his son's.

Enough snooping, she went downstairs, to prepare dinner. What do you say to welcome a child who is yours but you never saw, she wondered. And what will make their appearance with us? She still heard his whispered I want to be a family with you, and Frannie, that had just been a few days ago. And now, Julia and John were sitting in the backyard.

Dinner was spaghetti, Ruby and Josie were staying too, and although there were stretches of awkward silence between the adults, the kids' interaction was cheerful, lead by Ruby who had started to paint faces which ketchup on her plate and was immediatly joined by the other three.

"I guees, I'll have to hose you down before we give back to your parents" Quinn teased the girls.

"Oh yes, please, Peter, please, a water fight, a water fight." The girls were at the hose in no time and Quinn sighed.

"You started it" Carrie smiled.

"Come on, John, the two of us against the girls?"

Carrie held her breath, when John seemed to hesitate for a second, glanced at his mother, who gave a reassuring smile and then smiled and followed Quinn to the faucet.

Soon, they were all soaked, but the laughter and joyful screams were irresistable. It was way after seven when Carrie collected her dripping wet nieces and walked them home, bringing back a spare sweatpants and hoodie from Ruby for John. Franny was already in her pajamas, snuggled into Quinn's lap, halfway asleep.

"Can I get you anything else, like a glass of wine or beer? And for you some icecream?"

"I have to drive and as police officer..."

"Where are you staying? I can give you a ride later" Quinn offered. "How long are you staying?"

"Well then, a glass of wine would be nice. And I guess, John would like some icecream. We stay at a motel not far from here. And we planned to drive back Sunday morning."

Quinn looked at her, then at John. "What would you like to do tomorrow? We could, uhm..." 

"You always wanted to go to the National Air and Space Museum again" Carrie interfered. He casted her a glance, half thankful, half what the fuck.

"Do you like planes?" John nodded. "Well, if your mum agrees, we could go there tomorrow."

They decided to call it a day soon afterwards, with Frannie now sound asleep on Quinn's lap, curled up against his chest and John yawning frequently.

Quinn carried Frannie upstairs while Carrie put the dishes into the dishwasher. Julia joined her to say goodbye.

"Thanks for today. I should have called. But I didn't know about you, so I didn't know there is someone who could be bothered by our visit. I thought, he's alone. He always was. Well, I guess, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Uhm, no, I can't...I'll..." Her eyes got distracted by Maggie's cookie jar. "My sister and I usually bake on Saturdays. Cookies. Muffins. We bake. A lot. So I am busy. And Frannie has a birthday party, busy day tomorrow. But Peter loves the museum, and doesn't bake." She saw Quinn in the shadow of the hallway, tilting his had and raising his eyebrows quizzical, but what the fuck, he just had to do this alone.

Quinn made himself seen, kissed her briefly, muttering "you bake?" against her mouth and soon the three of them were walking down the driveway to his car.

Carrie saw them through the kitchen window, mother, son and Quinn.

It took him more than three hours to come back. She had waited downstairs for nearly two hours and was in bed when he came home, pretending to be asleep. She was glad he came upstairs, so it wasn't too bad.

Nobody spoke until he had crawled under the sheets.

"Hey, I know you are awake."

"Why?"

"Your breathing is different when you sleep. What is it?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I drove around a bit. Needed to think about the day. But I should've called. Sorry."

"Yeah, that would have been nice."

She felt him skidding closer, closing the distance between them.

"So, you do bake on Saturdays? How come I never get any cookies then?"

"Not funny. They came to see you not to meet me. And I can't..."

Finally he pulled her into an embrace.

"I know. But thank you for today, I know it was awkward."

"Yeah, no shit, it was awkward. But how was it for you?"

"Awkward, too. But good in an other way, too. He's cute, isn't he?" He couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

"Yeah, just like his dad. And his mum is an eyecatcher as well."

"Carrie, I am not his dad, not in that way, and I never will be."

"But he wanted to get to know you."

"And I just hope I won't fuck it up...again. Thanks for suggesting the museum...I think, that's what kids like."

"I was there once with the girls. They liked it. It's fun. A lot of things to do and see."

"Why don't you and Frannie come with me then?"

"I think, you just have to do this alone. He wants to meet you, and Julia maybe wants to catch up with you, she didn't have a clue that I exist. And she quizzed me about how you fit in here."

"Well, she's a cop. And I gave here every reason not to consider me as father material, so I guess you and Frannie...that was a surprise for her."

"Yeah, maybe. Listen, I am tired, let's just sleep now."

"If you say so." He felt a strange undercurrent but she turned around, away from him.

He lay awake, unable to sleep, too much had happened that day. After a while he got up and went downstairs to get some water. The events of the day would require something stronger but he still didn't drink anything else than the occasional beer or wine. His thoughts trailed back to the evening, to John, seeing Julia again, having dinner with Julia, John, Frannie and Carrie, strange thing...driving them to the hotel, seeing them tomorrow again...Carrie had surprised him, her invitation for dinner and suggestion for Saturday's activity had been so much more than he himself had been able to phrase, dumbstruck as he had been in his overwhelming surprise. But she had been strange now in bed.

Well, how would I feel, if Brody appeared as surprise visitor and I had to cook dinner for him?

Oh, fuck, and now she was upstairs alone in bed, after she'd been alone all evening.

He was up the stairs with a couple of long steps and silently made his way into their sleeping room and around the bed to crawl under the blanket. She was snuggled deep into the soft blanket and he wasn't sure if she was still awake. But this was important.

He carefully lifted the cover a bit and pulled the blanket away from her to make room for himself to spoon her. Again her breathing told him she was indeed awake.

"I'm sorry, I really should've come home right away or called you. It was just too much."

"I know."

"But I left you alone with this."

"Yeah, you did. But I get it. It was a lot to take in."

"How about if you stop being a saint and tell me you are sad? Turn around, I wanna tell you something."

She did and when he bent down to kiss her, he felt her cheeks were wet.

"Sssshhh, I'm here now. You were amazing today. I'd been lost without you. And I hope, I don't even have to mention it, but just in case - you know this won't change anything, do you?"

She said nothing but snuggled closer.

"It's you and me and Frannie. And how John can be part of this, we'll figure out, together."

"It's not about John. I am so glad he came to see you. And he is a nice kid. He looks so much like you."

"But Julia?"

"She is the mother of your child."

"And?"

"I want her to like me. Will make it easier, I guess. But this is your past not mine, and she still carries a lot of grieve."

"Well, I have been an ass back then."

She was silent for a while but didn't move away.

"Why don't you say it all?"

"It's stupid, compared to the significance of the day."

"Spit it out."

"I have been waiting for you. It would have been nice to talk about the day, together, after you drove them back. I was happy for you, so very happy. And exhausted, because hosting spaghetti dinners for your ex is exhausting, at least for me. And hearing you say, it won't change a thing, might have helped too."

"It's not stupid. Come here." He pulled her closer, so her head could rest on his shoulder. "You think, he'll like me?"

He felt her giggle more than he actually heard it. "Well, first thing you told me when we met was you were likeable. You are a fucking charmer. Why shouldn't he like you? He seemed quite pleased with teaming up with you against the girls when you were water fighting." And then more serious "I guess, it's just like with you and Frannie or the girls, take it slow, be there, don't push it but let him be in the driver seat. You did it that way with Frannie, and see where the two of you are now."

"It just feels like another second chance and I just want to get things right this time."

"You are quite good at using second chances, just look at us. Relax, and tomorrow will work out just fine. He was so curious to meet you, he ogled you all the time over dinner."

"Can you and Frannie at least join for dinner? We don't need to do dinner here, we could go somewhere."

Carrie let the idea sink in for a few seconds but then nodded. He kissed her in return, not just a light peck like earlier that evening but a proper kiss which was soon deepening and getting more urgent.

"We have nine hours left before I need to go to the museum" he whispered into her ear. "How many of those do we need to sleep?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who have been following this thread at LJ (http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/95300.html): Although my story is non-canon in most ways, these deleted scenes really gave me headache. But, I decided for a different take on Julia's and Quinn's relationship very early and this couldn't be re-done without rewriting quite some chapters, so I decided to stick with my original head-canon which was, they had an affair for quite a while, but at least Q was not loving her, she got pregnant, he persuaded her to keep the baby and walked away the day the baby was born and they never saw again until the day he drove to Philly. But, knowing the deleted scenes now, I see a lot of fanfic potential to have another take on that relationship: What happens, if after S5 Quinn comes back in Julia's and his son's life?
> 
> And again, Kudos for clever Laure, who guessed it's Julia who's coming for a visit.


	46. Patchwork

Quinn woke up early, feeling brimming excited. It was probably about 5.30, he guessed, sun hadn't risen yet, but there was no way to go back to sleep now. He considered going on an early run, but then ditched the idea, he wanted to be at home when Carrie woke up, she shouldn't spend the morning alone, given that he'd be away most of the day. He would make sure that she was indeed going to spend the day with Maggie, baking or not, he didn't want her to be alone all day, pondering over his day with John - and Julia.

He wasn't yet in the mood for coffee and newspaper either, so he just watched her in the twilight of the quiet early morning. She was a curled up ball, tiny, her hair a blond mess all over the pillow. He had spent days and weeks in hideouts and sniper's nests in the deserts of the world, alone, with nothing to observe but the sand, the different angles of the sun over the length of the day and the stars at night. So lying comfortably in bed now, next to her sleeping beauty and being allowed to watch her was a pleasure he was happy to savor for hours. But he knew from experience that even when asleep she somehow sensed being watched and would wake up soon, years of training her instincts probably making her that aware, even with him. Well, he was the same, even if it was her and they were in their own bed. He wondered if this would ever stop.

Well, if she was going to wake up soon anyway...it was probably about an hour until Frannie would tiptoe into their bedroom...still enough time...He realized, he hadn't been doing this for weeks now, not even thought about it, which was nothing but a disgrace. He indeed hadn't been in a good place over the last couple of weeks. But most of the days, getting out of bed had been a demanding task for itself, so he hadn't thought about...other things...at least not in the mornings. And again, she had been with him all the time, not requesting anything for herself with the one exception that they slept in the same bed every night, and she herself had given him everything he needed. 

He was a damn lucky bastard, he thought, while he carefully moved around her to the other side of the bed, to spoon behind her. But he was much better now, not just because John had visited, he just was much better. Time to let her know. He carefully moved closer, using one hand to stroke her hair away from her face and neck, giving himself access to her nape. His mouth came down to her soft skin, nuzzling and kissing her, just below the earlobe, he smelled a hint of her perfume, a soupçon of something citrussy, and her own sweet smell, while his left hand made its way around her waist, carefully down to her panties, which he moved down a bit, just enough to get full access. She wiggled her now naked butt backwards and let a soft sigh, enough to transfer him from half erected to rock-hard and at the ready. He quickly got rid of his briefs and then, back south, used two fingers to softly part her labia and a third to draw slow circles around her entrance. Every now and then he moved the few centimeters up and flit his finger over her tiny center of pleasure, just an elusive butterfly touch.

If he had it his way, he'd spent a good part of the hour they had exactly like this. Well, maybe he could grind himself a bit more into her, to get a bit more pressure for himself, but no urgency. 

"Don't wake up yet, we still have time. Just let me do this for you" he whispered into her ear. She let out a soft moan, enough encouragement to go on, still at a slow and dreamy pace. He shoved his right arm under her body, far enough to crook his elbow and cup her right breast through her chemise. His thumb found her nipple and he was rewarded by her pushing her butt against his cock.

He felt her getting moist, and even after so many times it filled him with pleasure, that he could do that to her, that it was him giving her this pleasure.

"Quinn..."

"I'm right here, I won't stop, just let me hold you and touch you."

His left leg went over hers, heavy and warm, creating the human shelter she loved, he knew that now, how much she liked to feel vulnerable against his strength, how much she liked to be dominated and protected at the same time, how much she needed him to feel secure. 

He used her increasing wetness to slip a single finger into her, followed by a second one, back and forth, slowly fucking her with his hand, while his right hand slipped under her vest and continued its tender assault to her breast and nipple there. Her skin was so unbelievably soft and warm and her buttocks against his cock so...yeah...just so fucking good. He gave in to a sudden rush of urgency and pressed himself harder into her soft flesh, increasing the speed of the strokes of his fingers and and adding a circling thumb at her clit.

"Carrie, I want you to come in my arms. Please come for me. I want you to go first" he moaned close to her ear.

He slowly increased the pressure and rhythm of his hand's movements, calibrating his touch to what he knew she liked best, not stopping to rub himself against her gorgeous ass.

He knew she was close now, her breathing increased and ragged, the way she was pushing back at each of his thrusts telling him she was nearly there. The knowledge he could do to her whatever he wanted and she would allow and welcome him aroused him fiercely, but for now, this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to come in his arms, driven to mad frenzy by his fingers, and hold securely by his entire body.

He stopped circling her clit but applied firm pressure with his thumb, rubbing over the tiny nub back and force, with increasing speed.

"There you go, come now, this is what you need, what I want." He felt her orgasm approaching as she shuddered and her pussy tightened around his fingers, while he was further stimulating her, now at a much slower pace. She moaned his name and grind her ass into him, while climaxing and letting out a series of soft cries. 

Her orgasm was slowly tappering off, soft waves still shaking her, when he flipped her over onto her belly and withdrew his dripping wet fingers, only to replace them by his cock. 

"Carrie..."

"Uhm, don't stop, I want...more of you..."

He felt an urge to have her, to possess her and to fill her with himself, there was no way to take it slow now, so he entered her with one firm stroke, moaning her name and staying this deep and still for a few seconds. There was nothing he could do to not come immediatly, so he just gave in to the terrible need and brought himself there with a few deep thrusts, while whispering mad and incoherent declarations of love into her ear. She was pliant under his body, so small and fragile, and moaned his name. His orgasm burst over him, took his breath away, while he shot himself into her. Somehow he managed to keep most of his weight on his elbows when he collapsed into her back, blown away by the sheer bliss of his sensations.

It took him a while to regain enough composure and consciousness to roll off her and to rearrange her in his arms, where she curled up against his chest.

"Go back to sleep" he whispered "there is enough time. I'll take care of Frannie and wake you up for breakfast."

"Oh, okay then..." was all she could come up with and he couldn't help it, but had to grin, while he adjusted her panties, placed a kiss on her shoulder, pulled the blanket up and got his briefs up again. Just in time, he thought with a sigh, when he heard Frannie's naked feet padding along the hallway, if only she were such a sleepy head like her mum, but nope, 6.30 razor-sharp, every morning. 

So he raised, time for cereals and some books. And, if he was very lucky, and maybe with a little assistance of the DVD player, the newspaper.

\------------------------------

They had a pleasant morning and now he was on his way to Julia's and John's motel, not without having spent some minutes over the Ipad back home to check out about the museum anf things to do, because it would be kind of odd if they noticed he'd never been there before.

They were already waiting for him outside and as much as there is no real reason to be proud for any parent if your child resembles the said parent, it was just how the gene lottery worked out, he felt an odd joy when he looked at the boy, at least everybody could see they were...well, from the same gene pool...

The car ride downtown was a bit uneasy, some pleasantries about the weather, some comments about the traffic, his suggestion to meet Carrie and Frannie for an early dinner, to which Julia didn't respond at all, but it got better as soon as they were there. 

The museum had thousand of artefacts but it seemed the boy most liked the older propeller-driven aircrafts and of course the activity stations like the flight simulators. And Quinn had to admit he liked those too. 

He had a brief memory of being a child himself, watching a flightshow and being very excited about it, a tall man beside him, holding his hand, his father probably? Maybe he could do that with John one day too. He told him about the idea while they were flying in the flight simulator from Dulles to JFK (and crashed twice fatally) and John didn't react first, maybe he was just caught in the action on screen. But then, just before they were about to climb out, he looked at him with a surprising intensity. But when he spoke, his voice was quiet and he looked away. "Will there be a next time? Are you really coming to visit me? Mum said she doesn't know."

Ouch, that one hurt, Quinn thought, but the kid had every right to feel that way and to ask. He was glad they were still in the half-light of the simulator, out of Julia's sight, and decided for an honest answer, as he had no idea what Julia was going to allow.

"I would like to, if you want to see me and your mum agrees."

"And my dad."

"That's right, and your dad. Listen, I know it's a bit strange for you right now but I'll talk with your mum, today, and will ask her when I can come to see you."

"How will I call you? Because, I have a dad."

"Uhm, whatever you want. Frannie mostly says Peter."

"But the blond woman says Quinn. Why?"

"It's kind of a nickname. And my surname."

"That's weird. And Mum said your name's John."

"That's right. It's my middle name. And it was my dad's name."

"You have a lot of names." 

"I guess, that's right. You can choose, or use them all, that's up to you."

"Can we go to storytime now?"

"Sure."

While a member of the museum staff was reading a story about an astronaut to a bunch of children Quinn sat down with Julia, gladly accepting the papercup with coffee she was offering.

"He's a great kid."

"Yeah, he is. He seems to enjoy the museum. He likes all kind of technical stuff, so you chose well. You know those Lego sets which come with winding tackles, winches and engines to build your own machines? He loves those. For a kid of his age he's quite serious, always wants to get to the bottom of things."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

She looked at him, but said nothing.

"Listen, Jule, I'm glad you came. And I know I fucked it up, eight years ago. But I can't turn back time. What's gonna happen now? I mean, can I see him again?"

"Do you want that?"

"Of course I want that. I wouldn't want him to see me once and then I disappear again, I'd like to be part of his life, I told you."

"I can't allow you to disappoint him."

"What does that mean?"

"If Ted and I decide to allow you to be part of his life, this needs to be a constant arrangement."

"I get that."

"But can you do that? In the past it was always your job that made you disappear, at least that's what you said."

"I don't do that work anymore. I changed. My life changed."

"Because of her."

"Carrie and Frannie are part of that change, yes."

"You said, you were a CIA agent when you came to see me a few weeks ago. What's your work now?"

"I'm still with the agency, but do different duties now. Nothing...which would put anybody near me at a risk."

"So what was it then you did before? I need to understand before I can make a decision."

Quinn sighed. "I can't tell you and believe me, you don't want to know details. Most of it is classified."

"And how would I believe then, that the danger is really gone now?"

"I wouldn't have come to see you, if I still were a danger to him. That's why I left in the first place. But I can't proof it, you just have to trust me. The identity under which I did...what I did...doesn't exist anymore, Peter Quinn is a civilian with a clean slate. You saw how I live now. I wouldn't be there, put them in the crossfire, if I had the slightest doubt."

"Does she know who you are, or were?"

"She's agency too."

"I see. How did she make you stay?"

"It's the other way around. I am happy she wants me to stay and didn't run for the hills." 

Carrie had been right, there still was grieve, kind of mourning the 'what could have been' rather than still wanting it, but still it was important she understood that Carrie was part of his life. And would be around too, if John was allowed in his life.

"Well, obviously Johnny needs a saying in this too, but if he wants to see you, we could agree on maybe a day every fortnight? Like Saturday, every other week? For now, it has to be in Philadelphia, and I will be around as long as he's more comfortable with you. And, you have to meet Ted and me for lunch once, he wants to meet you before..." Obviously, she and her husband had it all talked through and a plan in place.

"Sure, whatever you say. I'll do it. And I promise to be there. This time, I'll be there."

\--------------------------

They met for an early dinner at a restaurant with outdoor playground with Carrie and Frannie and Carrie had brought her nieces along. Probably not a bad idea, as the girls immediatly engaged John into their play, an elaborated form of playing catch, Quinn didn't really get the rules, just that Frannie would get soon very upset because she was slower than the bigger kids - he knew that from previous experience.

Carrie already sat at an outdoor table near the play area and it was kind of a strange feeling, two of his lifes merging here, approaching her table with an other woman in tow. She had seen John joining the girls so she turned around when they got closer and smiled at him, he read it as a silent 'I'm ok, we'll figure this out'.

He bent down to kiss her, usually they weren't very touch-and-feel when in public but he just felt like - and was happily received.

"How was it? Have you ever been to D.C. before?" Although he had witnessed it the evening before, it was again strange to see Carrie and Julia interacting.

"On a field trip, when I was in the police academy. But not to that museum. But it was good, at least John liked it a lot, he likes technical stuff. Those two spent a lot of time in the flight simulators."

"Oh, my nieces loved those too, when I took them there. They didn't had these when my dad took us in eighties."

They went on with friendly chit-chat until the food arrived and Quinn was just happy to lean back and watch, honestly he had talked and done enough for one day. 

He was just about to wonder why Carrie was so relaxed with this when it hit him: She was on familiar ground, she was treating Julia like she'd handle a new asset. Going in the conversation where Julia was leading to, building trust, following the topics Julia brought up, making eyecontact, but not too intense, just the right amount of smiles, listening well, reassuring comments...it was fascinating, he had always liked watching Carrie at work. And he had to admit, her strategy was working. Julia relaxed visibly and for Carrie - she was much more self-confident than the night before.

Just before the food arrived Julia excused herself and collected John to have him wash his hands too.

Quinn leant over to Carrie, an amused half-smile on his face. "You are like a spider in her web."

"Is it that obvious? I mean, for anybody else but you?"

"No, I don't think she's noticing it. You are good."

"Well, as we need her consent, we are better off if she at least doesn't actively not like me."

"To quote the famous Carrie Matthison: You are a fucking charmer. She'll get along with you. -How was your day?"

"Tons of cookies. And Maggie lecturing me about the importance of a well stocked pantry. You know, stuff like 'When you get unexpected visitors, it's always good to be able to offer...'."

"Tough shit... I'm sorry. Does that imply, I'll get cookies tonight? Or no cookies for me because I made you go there?"

"Mercy before justice, you'll get some too. Frannie went a bit wild on the icing and decorations though, so they are rather sweet. But she insisted, her special creations are for you."

"Good. I'll nosh myself into sugar coma as soon as we are home. I cave in for today, can we just camp on the couch and watch a movie tonight, no meaningful talking? I'll tell you everything tomorrow, ok?"

She smiled and brushed a thumb over his cheek. "I am willing to offer a shoulder massage with that."

"That's generous - how come?"

"You were generous this morning."

"Oh, my pleasure."

They exchanged a knowing smile just before the rest of the crowd joined the table again.

Dinner was over soon, everybody tired from the day's activities. Quinn walked Julia and John to their car, when they were back in their lane. 

"I'll see you in two weeks."

"Really?"

"I promise."

Just then Frannie ran outside. "Wait, I made cookies for you, too."

Julia came around the car. "She's a sweet girl."

"She is, indeed... - Listen, Jule, thanks for coming. That meant a lot to me. I'll see you in two weeks. I'll call you a couple of days before for details."

"I'll wait for your call. Bye."


	47. Birthday preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting sappy, just so you know.

Summer was slowly coming to an end, the days got shorter, just a few minutes every day, and the evenings, even after a sunny day, became chilly again. They hadn't been to the lake except for those two weeks at the beginning of her nieces' summer break but now, with Quinn going to Philadelphia every fortnight, Carrie returned there for a few last weekends before they would close the cabin down until next spring. Sometimes it was just her and Frannie, sometimes she took the girls too, sometimes Quinn joined them later at night on Saturdays when he came back from his visits to John. 

Julia had held her promise, he was allowed to see John every other Saturday, but only in Philadelphia and only with herself in sight. So he drove five hours to spend three hours with John, usually going to a park and playing ball or going somewhere for lunch as he had no place of his own up there where he could take the kid and Julia didn't want him in their house. Well, probably her husband doesn't want me there, he thought after the lunch, which Julia and Ted had requested as prerequisite. Ted was a history professor at the local college, and although probably a nice man, Quinn and he hadn't really clicked.

The park appointments were fine as long as the weather was good but what was going to happen in winter, Quinn asked himself more than once.

He had suggested Julia to take John down to DC for a weekend and even offered to do all four drives but she had rejected, saying for the time being she wanted to be around when they met.

Twice, John told him about school-related events, one being a hockey mini league-game, the other a chess tournament, and when Quinn had asked him, whether he wanted him to come, he had smiled his lopsided smile and of course he was happy to do the extra drives then. 

One Saturday, Carrie and Frannie went with him and they went to the Zoo, somehow Carrie had made the miracle happen and Julia had stayed at home. It was the best of all his visits and for the first time he felt no relief when the afternoon was over and he could leave but wished they had more time. They even went to dinner afterwards, together with Julia and Ted, where Carrie involved Ted into a lengthy discussion about the fall of the Berlin wall and the question whether there still were differences between the former Eastern Germany and the western parts of the country. All Jonas' and Otto's thoughts, she told him later, but Ted was intrigued.

Was he forming a bond with John? He didn't really know but he hoped so. At least the kid asked him each time, if he'd be back in two weeks, so he made sure not to miss a single occasion. But three hours every two weeks wasn't that much and with Julia always around...

But still, he was grateful. This was more than he ever thought he'd have with his son. Only...he wished, some day John could be part of his real life and not some appendix, strictly bound by rules and regulations. But he felt not in the position to ask Julia for more again, assuming she would say no.

Carrie never complained, but certainly the new routines had an impact on her and Frannie as well, he was away most of the Saturdays now and it would probably just be this way for the future as well.

When they were at the lake, he returned to an empty house, which he didn't like, so the next few times he added two more hours of driving and joined them at the lake late Saturday night.

It was one of those nights when Carrie brought up a question. He had arrived late, traffic had been crazy but she'd been waiting for him, snuggled up into a blanket, with a thermos filled with hot tea, in the gazebo.

She waited for him to kiss her and then to sit down, before she handed him a mug and lifted the blanket just enough to share her warmth with him. He took a sip and tasted the strong aroma of rhum in it.

"I thought, we don't do this anymore? Not that I'm complaining..."

"I thought, you've been a good boy and I've been a good girl for months now, so I decided a sip every now and then is just fine. I found it in the pantry here. And with your mum being irish, you should know that hot tea with rhum goes as medicine not as drink."

"Aaw, I see...exactly what I need, by the way. Driving down here took me nearly seven hours. I am getting old. My back hurts, I have a motherfucker of a headache and the leg's giving me hell." He stretched and his joints were cracking. He never complained about the still lingering effects of his injuries from Syria so it must be really bad.

They finished their tea in silence, she knew he always needs some time to be back with her after he had seen John and spent a long time alone in the car, his mind probably wandering not only to happy places.

"Let's go inside, it's getting cold here. I guess, autumn is just around the corner. Probably one of the last weekends here this year."

"What happens to the cabin in winter?"

"Usually my dad, or these days Bill, comes here a day or two in October, empties all waterpipes, barricades the windows, that kind of stuff. And then we come back in spring."

"Maybe I should help Bill this year?"

"He'd like that." And she liked it too, him getting attached to this place.

He laid down stretched out on the couch as soon as they were back in the house, a groan escaping his throat. She knew better than to comment but refilled his mug and positioned herself near his head so she could pull him in her lap and start to massage his head. He let another groan when her hands touched his scalp and she started to move her fingers with firm pressure.

"Uhm, that's good. I'm sorry I'm so done in."

"It was a long day. And I'm glad you came here. I missed you." She worked her hands simultaneously over his scalp, around his ears and down to his nape and saw him slowly relaxing under her touch.

"I've been thinking."

He opened one eye again and smirked. "Really?"

"It's your birthday soon."

He made a non-committal sigh, she wasn't sure if this was an answer or just a reaction to her thumb and index finger digging deep into the muscles at his nape.

"How do you wanna celebrate?"

"Do I have to?"

"Why wouldn't you? And I asked "how" not "if".

He didn't answer for a while but knew she wouldn't drop the topic anyway.

"I don't know. Maybe because I never did it." She thought she heard a streak of uncertainty in his voice.

"I'd like to celebrate. I liked my birthday."

A smile darted across his face at the memory of this evening.

"Ah...that's where we're heading for. Well, that's easy, then I want exactly this for my birthday too."

"Yeah, I thought so. But I was talking about celebrating with other people, you know? Not just you and me, although we should do that afterwards then."

"Other people meaning Maggie and Bill? Please not Dar or Saul..."

"Are you kidding?! I'm talking about celebrating not about fighting."

"Why don't you just tell me what you have in mind and I tell you whether I want it or not? And please don't stop what your fingers are doing there at my nape, that's good."

At least she had the decency to look the slightest bit ashamed, as he hit a nail here.

"I know you don't like large birthday parties. But I thought a family dinner...with Maggie, Bill and the girls...maybe in a restaurant?"

She paused and went on as he didn't object. "Maybe in Philly, so John can join us? We could go for that weekend, all of us."

"Wouldn't that be a bit of a hassle for Maggie and Bill?" He groaned as her fingers digged into a firm knot at his shoulder muscle.

"No wonder, you're having a headache, you're so tensed up. You're part of this family now, they don't mind to go to Philly at all. I bet they'd like to meet John. So, is this a yes?"

One of his hands came up to cup her cheek. "It is a yes. Thank you for..." his voice trailed off.

"It's okay. We all want that. And I know, it's not easy. But it's more than you ever thought you'd have with him. Just be patient."

"But Carrie? No ballons, no presents, no other stuff, ok? Just dinner."

"And a cake."

He sighed. "And a cake."

"Well, then, let me take you to bed. Those knots need some more attention, but I need you to turn around to get better access."

"But no more taking advantage of a tired man..."

"At least not in terms of birthday parties..."

\-------------------------------

It was indeed their last weekend at the cabin for that year. The following week brought cold, rainy wheather, the long summer was history. Quinn and Bill went down to the lake one day to prepare the cabin for the upcoming winter and Carrie used the day of his absence for some birthday preparations, her very own special mission as she had indeed made some plans. She just had told him some days after their last night at the cabin that Maggie's family would be going with them to Philadelphia.

He had no idea that she had been to Philadelphia herself for the day he had spent with Bill at the lake and she did not intend to tell him at all, at least not now.

His birthday happened to be the Saturday before Columbus Day, couldn't be better, she thought.

The topic wasn't commented on any further, the only exception being her gentle reminder to call Julia and ask for her permission to take John for dinner. He kind of procrastinated it so in the end Carrie said she did it and it was fine.

She suggested to go up to Philly on Friday after work already and to use the Saturday for a visit to a museum or the aquarium, because "the last day out with the whole family has been a while ago". He didn't argue, although silently thought, leaving Saturday morning would have been just fine.

But he sensed her being nervous during the drive, little things, like her indexfingers tapping against the steering wheel, cursing under her breath a little more than usual while driving, eyeing him from the corner of her eyes a bit too often. He decided not to comment, as she wouldn't tell him anything anyway, probably she had gone a bit further with the birthday thing and was wondering now if she did the right thing. As long as there was not anybody jumping out of an oversized cake...

He played "I spy" for a while with Frannie and after she had fallen asleep he went through some work-related emails he had been ignoring all week while listenting mind-absently to Carrie's cursing about other drivers' inabilities.

Assuming she was driving to a downtown hotel it took him until she pulled into the residential street near Julia's police station to notice where they were going.

"Carrie, what the fuck, you are not going to tell me, we are having another dinner with Julia and that boring history teacher?!"

Now her whole hand was tapping at the steering wheel, bad sign.

"Carrie, could you please answer my question?"

"Don't be mad please...just watch Frannie for a second, will you?"

And with that, she was out of the car, walking up to the house. He watched Julia opening, with John at her side who casted him a shy smile and hold a bag. Julia waved towards the car, kissed John's forehead and said something to Carrie before John and Carrie walked towards the car and Julia closed the door. Carrie put John's bag in the trunk and they both joined them in the car again.

Suddenly he felt a lump in his throat but somehow managed to say hello to John and ask one or two questions about his week and the last hockey game. Frannie woke up when the car started again and with a forced cheerfulness in her voice Carrie offered them her Ipad.

"Hey, kids, I put some Disney movies on it. Why don't you watch one, it's another 90 minutes to drive."

Only then she looked at him, partly very satisfied with herself, partly insecure and questioning.

"Where are we going?"

"Long Beach Island. Until Monday. I was afraid, she would change her mind last minute, so I didn't say anything earlier. Please don't be..."

"No, it's the opposite...Thank you."

He bit his lip, took her hand and looked out of the window. She squeezed back and brushed her thumb over his knuckles.

"Let's talk tonight."

\------------------------------

Carrie had rented a large beach house and the kids owned the place within minutes, playing hide and seek and pirates in the generous layout of the upper floor, while Maggie finished preparing the stew she had pre-cooked and brought along for dinner. Carrie hadn't thought about that and although she found the ever-preparedness of her sister a tiny bit annoying, she was grateful, as of course Maggie had been right, it was much nicer after the long drive to eat at home rather hitting up a restaurant with four kids in tow. 

Bill carried loads of supplies from their car into the house, Carrie spotted cereals, bread, fruits, cheese, juice, beer, a bottle of single malt, chocolate, bisquits and plenty of other stuff. Well, at least we won't starve...

She helped the kids to discuss the sleeping arrangements, which finally was all kids on matrasses on the floor of one room. A pirate camp, Josie pointed out.

When she came back downstairs she found Quinn outside on the deck, facing the beach and the ocean, with a a beer and a smoke.

"Mind sharing?"

"No, not at all. Come here."

He pulled her close and they shared the cigarette in silence, it was rare these days that they smoked, he had more or less stopped after his pneumonia. 

"How did you do it?"

"What?"

"John."

"Oh, that. I paid a visit, the day you were at the lake. And I called ahead to ask if she was available. No surprise visit. I behaved well, don't worry."

"And then she just said yes."

"More or less. Ted helped, he likes my profound knowledge of newer german history. I called Otto in advance to get some new bits and pieces to make my cover rock-solid. I arrived a bit early, totally unplanned of course, so Julia wasn't home yet and had a nice little chat with Ted."

She felt him chuckle.

"I bet Otto liked that."

"Oh yes, he always likes a little conspirancy. And I told her, it would mean a lot to you."

"It does."

"I know. And I think, she should know. And maybe I said something like I wished Frannie have had a chance to meet her biological father one day but as he is dead..."

"I see, emotional blackmail."

"For the right reason. And it wasn't a lie. Let's say, we had a chat between mothers, like-minded spirits, so to say. It helped that we are just 70 miles away. I promised to call or bring him home in case there are any problems. But finally, he made the decision himself. They asked him and he said he really would like to go."

She felt his arm tightening around her shoulder as he pulled her closer and around to kiss her.

"It's...perfect. Thank you."

"You deserve it. 

He kissed her again, longer, lingering, and as soon as the kiss deepened they were interrupted by Maggie calling everybody for dinner.

"Uhm, downside of family gatherings - far too much people involved" she deadpanned and squeezed his buttock.

He smiled, genuinly and happy. "I like it, let's go in. And I'll thank you properly later..."

\------------------

Dinner was delicious, a loud and cheerful affair. Carrie noticed with a smile that Johnny chose a chair next to Quinn's. They played boardgames afterwards and had chocolate for dessert, the kids were up until after ten, even Frannie.

Quinn and Carrie went upstairs with the bunch of giggling, over-tired children to supervise tooth brushing and bedtime. There was a brief odd moment when all the girls kissed Quinn good night and John was standing next to them watching. Carrie was very proud of Quinn when he briefly kissed Johnny's forehead and tousled his hair.

"Let me know when the girls are just too much, then we go for a round of basketball tomorrow, ok? And if there is a anything wrong, Carrie and I are just next door. Good night, sleep well."

Outside, Quinn caught Carrie's gaze, all smile and shiny eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, you're just so...a Dad. I just remembered making that fucked up video in Berlin and what you said there."

He couldn't help, but had to smile back, not even trying to defend.

"He's new to the family...and the girls can be overwhelming. And what, when he wakes up and is afraid or feeling unwell, he should know where to find me...us, I mean..."

"You're behaving like a fucking motherhen in chief, but I am so proud of you, as sappy as that might be. And now, let's go to bed. I'm tired too."

"Uhm, as much as I'd like that...Don't you think we should at least say good night to Maggie and Bill or have a night cup together?"

"For fuck's sake, when did you get so polite?" But of course he was right.

\----------------------------

They were kind of lucky, Maggie and Bill were tired and called it a day soon. Quinn silently closed the door to their sleeping room and crossed the room towards the bed where she stood and looked for her pj's in their bag in no time, she hadn't even heard him when his arms went around her waist.

"Fucking black ops" she muttered when he turned her around.

"Can be very useful at times like these when it's necessary to be silent. So I can. Leaves the question, can you?"

She saw his wicked grin and felt his hands on her back, slipping under her shirt.

"Oh no, I'm so not gonna fuck you with four kids behind the wall to our left, and my sister and her husband behind the wall to our right."

"No, you aren't, but I'm gonna fuck you."

He was already opening her bra, smooth, measured movements, belied by his accelerating breathing.

She laughed. "Quinn, no, I can't do this. What if one of the kids comes in?"

"Oh, we'll be quick and silent. And they're passed out, they won't stir for at least two more hours." He had his palms around her breasts, softly fondling her nipples. The tenderness of his caresses betrayed his smug talking and she knew she would cave soon anyway if he wouldn't stop now.

"Leaves Maggie and Bill."

"Oh, I'm sure they know what loving couples do in their respective bedrooms sometimes. They have two kids, so they at least..."

"Quinn, stop it...this is mean" she giggled.

"What is mean? Me having fantasies about your sister's sex life or me doing this?" And with that one of his hands went south, below the waistband of her jeans, unzipping it with one smooth movement of his thumb, and then slowly into her panties.

"Technically it's my birthday..." he released her breast and glanced at his watch "...right now. And you asked me what I want, the night at the cabin. And I want this. You."

He continued undressing her, while whispering into her ear. "Please, pretty please, I want to be with you. I want to thank you, my way. And you want this too. I can feel it. I'll make sure we are silent, nobody will ever know...just let me..."

"Happy birthday" she whispered.

And with that, she gave in, not that her resistance had been all serious in the beginning, and he knew he had her.

When she was fully naked he lifted her and laid her down on the bed, then quickly undressed himself, while looking down on her naked milk-white body.

"You are so fucking beautiful, I can never get enough of you, I could stare at you all night" he whispered, his voice husky from desire.

Naked, he lowered himself down to the bed, starting to kiss and caress her legs at her ankles, silent and with the greatest tenderness, slowly moving upwards. He kissed the soft skin inside her tighs, rearranging her legs to give himself access to her opening. She moaned sweetly.

"Geez, Carrie, so much about being silent. Where will this end, when you already moan before I even started..." he whispered, smiling, pleased with himself, lowering his head again between her legs and allowing his tongue to find her clit, licking around it in slow circles. His arm was long enough to come up and cover Carrie's mouth with his hand. It's always nice and extremely erotic to have the upper hand in this, he thought, madly aroused himself now. He felt her breathing getting ragged against his palm when adjusting his tongue's pace and pressure, he was not going to prolong this, not tonight. She'll just get what she likes best, was his last clear thought. So he dipped his tongue inside, a few times back and force into her sweet wetness, at increasing speed, and then darted it deep inside while sucking her clit with his lip, each movement of his tongue now making her body quiver and clench and her biting into his hand. She'd scream by now if he wouldn't gag her, he was pretty sure. She writhed and squirmed, trying to get release but he held her with firm pressure until her orgasm tapered off, placing a last soft kiss on her clit, which made her shiver before he crawled up to hold and enter her.

She felt tight, hot, wet, welcoming him, as he filled her and he kept still for a while, kissing her and giving her time to let her body reawake. Only then he started moving with slow long thrusts, suddenly finding it extremly difficult not to make a sound.  
"Oh God, Carrie, you gotta help me here" he whispered into her ear "or I'll scream the house down...you are just so...I can't get enough of you...of this...." She sensed the increasing urgency in his voice and shut his mouth by kissing him, baffling his groans with her mouth.  
He came when she pressed her heels into his buttocks, burying him deep inside her and raising her hips against his to meet his strokes. One final releasing thrust and he shot himself into her, while she bit his lower lip and clinged to his shoulders.

"That's indeed a happy birthday, the happiest I ever had..." he whispered, his mouth still at hers.

"And it's just the first hour, 23 are still to come" she smiled.


	48. Quinn's Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? The ocean, beach, stars...can't get any better...brace yourself for smut and romance...

Of course, Carrie hadn't stick to the agreed rules, with some consulting from the joint female forces of the Mathieson family she had decided that Quinn probably had no idea what he was about to miss, given the fact he never had had a birthday celebration for more than 30 years. She hadn't revealed that information to anybody, though, just had said, that he had no close family of his own anymore, except John now. So there were presents, a cake with candles, two actually - Ruby and Josie had made one too - and hand-crafted birthday cards, the girls had helped Frannie to make one as well. Carrie had made sure, John had a present too, she herself remembered how much Maggie and she always had enjoyed Frank's birthday, including the sibling rivalry whose present was the best. Of course they never got an answer to this quest, as Frank always said, he loved all his presents as much as his girls.

When she had been buying the chess game with John, that day in Philadelphia, she had caught a reflection of herself and John in the mirror in the toy shop, behind the cashier counter, and honestly, she had liked what she saw. A woman who seemed to be calm and content, no manic glimmer in her eyes. That's not crazy Carrie anymore, she thought, that's me. And, besides all the shit Quinn and she had been through over the last couple of months and that nobody knew about, she felt an overwhelming joy to perform such a normal and yet so special task: Buying a birthday present for the man she loved with his son. The shop assistant would never learn what had made the blonde woman with the cute shy boy so happy, but she could not help herself but had to smile back when she saw the radiant smile the woman was carrying.

St. Peter had been generous too, as it was a beautiful golden October day, rays of sunlight reflected glittering from the waves, nearly no wind, the last reminder of the beautiful summer they had had. A very welcome change after the grim cold rainy weather of the last weeks.

They had come outside right after the extended breakfast, playing, chatting, watching the waves and enjoying the sun. Dinner was supposed to be a BBQ, Bill had gone to town earlier and bought meat and sausages while Quinn had taught the bigger kids how to make a fire without matches, just with dry wood, a knife, a firestone and some dry grass as tinder. Carrie had to turn away to not burst into laughter when she saw John's face, full of boyish admiration. "I bet, Ted can't teach him this, so this is kind of a cheap trick" she muttered in Quinn's ear when he had been successful. "Any boy scout can do, so I don't see the problem" Quinn had grinned back.

Soon afterwards, John had strolled away and started skimming stones, or at least had tried to. Carrie watched Quinn watching him, mind absently, and had caught his gaze, hesitantly. 

"Can you do it?"

"Kind of."

"I guess he wouldn't mind a tutorial."

"Think so?"

"Yes."

Carrie watched them for a while, Quinn skimming stones, Johnny giving it another try, Quinn bending down on his knees and talking him through the movements and finally Quinn kneeling behind him and guiding John's arm with his until the boy was successfull in his own attempts.

"If it weren't for the shiny eyes, I'd say you look like a very fat, very sated cat..." Maggie's voice pulled her out of her musings.

"I am indeed very happy."

"Don't get me wrong, and don't take it as offence, but I never saw you so...selflessly...and caring...except for Frannie, of course. But...it suits you. And it's good to see you, like this, with him."

"No offence taken. You are right. I just want him to be happy. That's right. And I'd go great length for him."

"You already did, Carrie, you already did. Be proud of yourself."

"You know what...actually I am."

When she turned her head back again to the spot where Quinn and John previously had been, she didn't see them anymore. She scanned the perimeter and spotted them far down the beach, a familiar dark haired, tall figure next to a smaller figure, walking together. It was nearly dusk when they came back to the fire, Bill already had started preparing the BBQ while Maggie was inside, preparing some salads. Carrie was sitting alone by the fire, watching the girls building a sand castle and glancing every now and then towards Quinn and John, until they were close enough for her to see Quinn's hand resting on John's shoulder.

John immediatly joined the girls when they finally arrived back at the fireside when Quinn sat down next to her. She snuggled into his arm.

"I started to miss you, all alone by the fire here."

"Oh, I know...you and I will have our own birthday party tonight, just wait" he smiled down at her.

"From what I could see from here, there was some serious talking happening..."

"Indeed...he asked me why I never came to see him, earlier."

"Whoa..."

"Yep, that's what I thought..."

"What did you say?"

"The truth."

"So, you did tell him..."

"Jesus, Carrie, are you fucking insane? Of course I did not tell him that I used to be a killer and couldn't be anywhere near him without putting his life into imminent danger. Of course I didn't do that."

"I didn't think so. I was refering to 'I made a mistake', 'I worked far away' or other child-friendly explanations."

"Sorry. I am still a bit...in an emotional overdrive, I guess...I told him, I used to be a soldier, working far away. That I thought it might be better if he never knows about me. That I know now how wrong I was. That I regret. That I often thought about him. That none of this is Julia's or Ted's fault."

"That's generous."

"No, it's the truth. I made that decision."

"What did he say?"

"Not much. He's not much of a talker. He observes and listens."

"Uhm, sounds familiar..."

"Why do you smirk?"

"Jeez, Quinn, I won't lecture you on the nature-nuture-debate but you can't deny your kinship here. These kid is so much like you...your genes seem to be pretty dominant."

Now it was his time to smirk.

"Want to find out what gene mixture you and I will make?"

"You want that?" She was genuinly surprised.

"Why not? At least we should discuss, at some point."

"Ok...maybe we should...But, back to your existent child: what did he say?"

"As I said. Not much. As if he was weighing my answer. And then he said, ok. And he asked if I am still a soldier. And when I denied he said, good, so you're not going away again. And I promised not to."

"Feels good?"

"Feels fucking good. And when we are back to Philly I'll ask Julia again whether John can come down to DC one weekend a month, to spend more time with us. - I'm gonna grab a beer, you too?"

Dinner was as casual as the rest of the day. Although it got a bit chilly they sat outside on the deck, all kids wrapped up in hoodies, enjoying the seabreeze and gorgeous food, the childrens' banter and chatter and Carrie thought how easy perfect happiness sometimes could be...Quinn grabbed her hand in that very moment and brushed her knuckles with his thumb, leaning into her to give her a brief, soft kiss.

"Again, this is perfect, thank you. Only one complaint, I hadn't enough of these today."

"You were far too busy. Fathering two kids, being favourite uncle for two more, performing some of your survival techniques to impress the kids..."

"As far as I know I'm the only uncle they have."

"See, so you are the favourite one." She couldn't get enough of these smiles, not the sad ones, the genuine, amused ones, which reached his eyes as well. If I have to make lame jokes for the rest of my life, it's worth it, it's totally worth it, she thought, just to see him calm and happy.

"Anyway...I still have plans for tonight. And these include just the two of us."

"Same restrictions as yesterday..."

"Better ideas and better prepared than yesterday...now as I know...the limitations of the place...and how inhibited you are...just wait..."

She couldn't help it, she already felt an exciting tingle down her spine, fucking charmer, that's what he was, and given his smile, a wicked grin now, he knew it...

Soon it was time to put the troop to bed, Maggie and Carrie volunteered, so Bill and Quinn could indulge a sip of the whisky Bill had brought along as birthday present for Quinn.

Frannie passed out as soon as her cheek made contact with her pillow, whereas John still sat on his blanket, thoughtfully starring at Frannie.

"Is everything alright, Johnny? Do you need anything?" Carrie just hoped he didn't miss his parents or would want to go home now.

"No, I was just wondering what she is for me, now."

"What do you mean with that?"

"Peter..told me today, that he is her father like my dad is mine. But that she has another one too, like me. So I was wondering, is she my sister now?"

Uhm, so much about scrutinizing questions, she thought, gene lottery, just saying...

"That's complicated, I know. But you know, I think, we can choose with whom we want to be. So if you want her to be your sister, she might like you being her brother. That's for the two of you to decide. You don't have to decide now."

"Good night."

"Good night, John."

When she came outside again she found Quinn alone on the deck, waiting for her. It was dark now, just the ocean glittered in the moon light.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Bill felt we - or maybe he and Maggie - need some privacy. So it's just you and me."

"A rare pleasure these days..."

"Anticipation is half the fun..."

"And what were you anticipating...?"

He turned his head, looking at her, she saw the his eyes beaming with joy...and excitement. And she saw the love and the longing.

"Carrie...please don't make me beg for the second time within 24 hours..."

"We just have to be silent."

"I don't want to be silent. Or actually, more to the point, I don't want you to be silent. Not that it worked very well yesterday in the first place, you are a little impatient noisy thing when you come apart..."

He pulled her close and she felt his hand wandering under her sweater, nestling to get skin contact.

"But I like that. Actually, I like that a lot. Because it tells me how much you like what I'm doing with you."

"Quinn..."

"Let's get some blankets, a bottle of wine and go down to the beach."

"Quinn, this is...too cold..."

"Jesus, Carrie...who is the one getting old here?" he teased her. "My bones will ache tomorrow, not yours."

"And the sand...everywhere...although your hand there is kind of convincing..."

"You can choose your spot. You can be on top, that leaves the sand to me. And we'll take enough blankets to keep you warm. I'll keep you warm...please...oh god, see, there it is, begging for sex, twice in less than 24 hours...I fucking can't believe it...please say yes..."

"You figured it all out, today, did you, Mr. smarty pants? You are so smug, what made you so sure I'd say yes?"

"Well, maybe, while I did that walk with John, I might have been looking for a place... and about the other question...what made me so sure...well, what can I say?"

He bent down to kiss her and if she hadn't been convinced yet...that kiss certainly would have...starting soft and tender, just exploring her lips, a caressing touch, gently sucking her lower lip, then deepening, his tongue parting her lips, slipping inside, questioning, so tender and then she gave in to the escalating pleasure and allowed herself just to be carried away.

"I take that as a yes. Come on, let's go."

"How far is it?"

"Depends on how often I need to stop and kiss you to keep your motivation up. Twenty minutes I'd say."

"You couldn't find anything closer?"

"Are you getting impatient again? I'll make it your worthwhile. And I wanted to be far away enough from the house..."

He took her on a walk down the beach, to a dune which formed a small natural niche, protected from the wind. Carrie had to admit that alone the stroll itself was probably the most romantic thing she ever had done and the prospect of making love under the stars filled her with utmost excitement. They didn't talk while they were walking, there was no need to. Quinn had put his arm around her shoulder, her hand was resting on his hip, and was carrying a bag he apparently had prepared before (smug bastard, she thought, but didn't comment) and she enjoyed the simple pleasure of being in his arm, feeling his warmth as a welcome contrast to the cool sand under her now bare feet while the only sound was the waves of the ocean. I'm gonna cry because this is so beautiful, she thought.

He guided her to his chosen spot and quickly got a small pile of blankets, including some pillows, out of the bag he had carried, and created a nest out of them. She had to laugh loudly when she saw the that he put a first aid blanket beneath the blanket they were supposed to lay on.

"What? You wanted it to be warm."

"Where did you get that from?"

"Your car. It is an emergency. I'll get you a new one next week."

 

Then he lit three tealight candles, put them in glasses and placed these around the nest. Finally he got a bottle of wine and two glasses and smiled at her. How could I ever say no to anything he wants, she thought.

"Sit down, let's snuggle under the blanket. We have lots of time. I did not just bring you here to make love to you, even if we just sit here together..."

"But I want you to make love to me, here, in a while."

They sat down, Carrie between his legs, leaning against his chest.

"Pull the blanket up, so it's gonna be nice and warm later."

"You thought about everything, did you?"she teased him.

"I'd do whatever it takes to get in your panties..."

"Can I ask you something then?"

"Sure."

"What you said earlier, about dominant genes, were you serious?"

"You spoke about dominant genes. Mine, to be specific. I just jumped on that. But I was serious. Do you never think about it?"

"Just recently. But not seriously. But sometimes I think I like the idea. Sometimes, it feels like the strangest thought at all."

"But we should at least talk about it."

"Yeah...the thing is, I thought we've been through so much and I feel it's too early. And after what you said in Berlin, I thought it's nothing you'd ever consider."

"But...now I do consider..."

"Yes, seeing you with Frannie...and with Johnny...that's different..."

"Maybe it's time to forget about Berlin."

"Besides what you did there for me in the end, you were quite an ass in the beginning."

"I know. But you shot me."

"I didn't know it was you. When you shot me, you knew it was me."

"Maybe we should work on some backstory in case the kids ever ask how we fell in love...could raise some eyebrows if they tell THESE stories at school..."

"Easy, you were the boring mute guy at work giving long longing looks..."

"Can we make it, I was the mysterious handsome guy at work giving long longing looks?"

"If your precious alpha-male self feels better then..."she sighed.

"I love you, you can't make me go away, even when you are mean."

"I'm not mean, I'm generous, respecting your feelings. And I love you too, just in case you didn't notice, shooting is a declaration of love, at least for us, I guess."

"I'm glad we talked it out..." he chuckled in her back.

"It would require some adjustments with my meds. In case we wanna try..."she jumped back on the original topic.

"Carrie, I don't want to rush us into something we are not ready for. But I want you to know, that I could imagine having another child with you. That I would be happy, if it's that what you want too. And for your meds, I thought it might be worth another try to lower the dosage anyway?"

"Yeah, I thought so too. I need to make an appointment."

"Well, then, do that, we see how that works out and about the other thing we'll speak again then?"

"Yeah...but until then...we could practice...more..."

He chuckled. "I'll take you up on that...But, I brought you out here for a reason, see, we can see the milky way. Should be one of the last nights, you can only see it from March til October here. See, there, the big dipper and then to the left the little dipper and there, the brightest star is Polaris, the North Star, and further to the left, at about ten o'clock, is Kassiopeia...the large W...and Kassiopeia is right in the middle of the milky way. Once, before the days of ISIS, I did a mission alone in Syria, self-extract, and my target was so remote, I had to walk five nights to get back to Al Raqqa. I had to make a quick fade, so I left with nothing but my gun and water supplies, and used the stars to navigate my way back. They are beautiful, and useful. Imagine, it takes the light to travel about a hundred years to travel to earth, so what we see, is the past, the star might already be dead, but we still see the light, it still has an impact. I always hoped that even if I'm gone, die on one of those missions, what I did had an impact too, that my deeds prevent bigger cruelties. And I hoped, you'd remember me. Me, not the assassin."

He whispered in her ear, his voice low, and while he was talking, one of his hands made its way under her sweater, nestled the hem of her top away and trailed upwards to her breast. Once there she felt his palm covering it, warm and promising. She listened to his voice and wished she'd seen him, his love for her, earlier or at least ever told him how much it had meant to her that he came to Islamabad, for her. That she had never ever thought about him as assassin. But those days were gone.

"Do you know how many nights I spent alone in those fucking deserts, watching the stars, knowing it would be days until my respective target would move, my window of opportunity would come? Do you know what I thought about? You. Not only love-making. I imagined how I'd show you the stars, you'll never see more of them as in a dark night in a desert, explain you the names and how I'd hold you to keep you warm when the night got chilly. I imagined how we'd talk. Remember these were the days we didn't talk much, not about important things. But I imagined we'd talk."

His voice in her ear, his hand on her breast and his warm and steady presence in her back...she briefly thought, if he'd try long enough he could talk me into oblivion...just hearing his voice...and the sound of the waves, a distant, soothing melody, nothing else.

"I thought, maybe she's sometimes watching the stars too and maybe, just maybe thinks back to that one night as well. When we kissed. And wonders how we missed each other. Just maybe. In some nights, I allowed myself to muse about making love to you."

"Go on, I like hearing your voice..."

"The thing is, it was always utmost exciting, I had the most intense orgasms when I thought about you while taking care of myself, pictured you being submissive under my touch or giving me pleasure, me being inside you, but afterwards...I was so fucking lonely, Carrie, so fucking desperatly fucking lonely...so I didn't allow it myself too often, because with the pleasure always came the unevitable pain. So it was safer just to imagine to talk to you. About the books I read, I read tons of books when being on missions, about the music you like, about Frannie, about politics, about the countries we visited, I imagined hour-long conversations. And I watched the stars with you, so many nights. And now...being here, with you..." His voice was husky and dark now and she turned around to look into his eyes. Their eyes locked and suddenly she didn't mind the chilliness any more. 

Slowly she pulled her sweater and top over her head, throwing them away and now sitting on her knees in front of him. She only could try to make it up for him, give herself to him for all the nights he had been alone. Her skin had a silverish glimmer and suddenly he was out of words, drinking her in. 

Slowly he removed his clothes, still holding her gaze. When he was naked he pulled her close.

"I'd love to see you naked in the moonlight, but I guess, you'll indeed get cold then. Let's crawl under the blankets."

The little nest was indeed warm and cozy, their body heat had been conserved by the layers he had created. 

Once she laid under the soft blankets he crawled next her, both laying on their side, facing each other. Silently he helped her to shimmy down her pants and slip, then carefully opened her bra and removed that as well.

He cupped her cheek with one hand and then trailed down with is index finger, from her cheek to her jawbone, neck, collarbone, then further down her chest, just that one finger, silently. She had goosebumps all over her body, even if it was warm and cosy in their cave. They didn't speak, their was no need for words, his eyes were locked with hers, his finger trailing down the only physical connection.

He reached her hip and followed the pelvic bone, diagonally down, leading to her mons, still holding her gaze. Just this one finger and his eyes and I'm already soaking wet, waiting for him, she tought, equally amused and aroused. He moved his finger slowly further south, his touch so elusive, she barely felt it, and smiled when he reached her opening and felt the welcoming wetness. When his finger slipped inside her moist passage he bent forward to kiss her. 

He slowly dipped his finger back and forth, at a dreamy pace, while their kiss deepened. They took their time, their lips, their tongues exploring and pleasing each other. When she softly moaned against his mouth he pulled back and smiled down at her, eyes bright and brimming. "You don't need to be silent, not tonight, nobody can hear us here...come for me, I wanna hear you. I want to see you come apart." He slipped a second finger into her while whispering and turned her a bit so she was on her back now, he looming over her. He went down, kissed her breast, several times just next to the nipple, she was longing for more, and then suddenly he sucked her nipple in, leaving her gasping for air for a moment at the sudden sensation. She arched her back, trying to get closer to him, and he sensed her want, sucking and licking her little bud while adjusting pace with his fingers, his reward being her increased breathing and moaning. He grazed her nipple with his teeth, at the verge of being painful, and started to work her clit with his thumb, while his two long fingers still penetrated her with an increasing rhythm. She had her hands in his hair and on his nape, clenching hard, holding him there, not wanting him to stop. She let a soft scream, when his teeth again grazed quickly over her nipple, immediatly followed by the soothing touch of his tongue. He moved over to her other breast and granted that bud the same attention, his fingers not stopping to bring her closer and closer to the brink. Her rapid heavy breathing told him she was nearly there, her body tensing at each rub of his thumb over her clit.

Time for a surprise he thought, bit her again, harder this time and she screamed again, writhing from the pleasure he was giving her. He quickly dove down under the blankets, aroused beyond conscious thinking himself, breathing in her scent. He removed his hand and, before she could process what happened, drove his tongue deep inside her, using his hands on her hips to pull her against his mouth. It took just a few flickering movements of his tongue while thrusting back and forth and her whole body quivered as she climaxed, crying out his name. He felt her vibrating around his tongue and against his mouth, while he stretched her orgasm wave after wave with a few more movements of his tongue, more gentle this time. She opened her eyes and would swear the stars were spiraling around her as her orgasm tapered off.

With one swift movement he came up, scooped her and sat down cross-legged, with her on his lap, arranging her to straddle him. He pulled a blanket around them and another one around her shoulders, before he cupped her chin and kissed her, feverishly.

"Do you need some time or can I...?" His voice was dark from desire and left no doubt which choice he had in mind. As if to underline his intentions she felt his hardon grating her entrance. Her arms went around his shoulders and she looked right into his eyes and simply nodded and slid herself down on his cock, inch by inch, while slowly rocking her hips, like a belly dancer. Her eyes were locked with his when he used his hands on her hips to support himself slowly moving in and out of her. It took him every ounce of self-control to restrain himself and take it slow, but he was determined to make her come again and he just could feel her body reawakening. But when she leant in and kissed him, fervently, he felt her pussy tensioning around his prick. As if he needed further encouragement she moaned "I'm ready, I want you to fuck me, fuck me, please. I wanna feel you, more of you." His arms went around her waist and he lifted her up and down, effortless, while bouncing his hips, thrusting as deep as possible into her, again and again. She was lost in his arms, neither wanting nor able to stop him now. He possessed her, she was his, and the way he owned her body was only establishing that he owned her soul and mind, all of her. She gave in to all the sensations she had, knowing she would climax again soon, keenly. She heard his ragged breathing, he groaned, a deep, utmost erotic sound, telling her it wouldn't be long now until he came. She clenched her fingers into his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his flesh and enjoyed his loud moan when she scratched down his back.

"Oh my god, Carrie, what are you doing to me, this...there...I'm...come with me..."

And with that one of his hands let go of her hips and came down to her clit, one thumb rubbing it, hard, fast and demanding. He increased the pressure of his thrusts, now a crescendo of pleasure, and when she came again and her muscles squeezed his shaft, he got his own release, exploding into her, feeling waves of intense pleasure shooting through his spine, killing every streak of conciousness. 

He didn't know how he had landed on his back, Carrie on top of him, he just felt his cock still twitching in her every now and then, before he finally slipped out. Carrie was still breathing heavily and his own pulse was still at a pretty strong clip. He softly caressed her back, feeling she was still warm, while his other hand fished for one of the blankets to cover them again. She smiled, eyes closed, when she felt it settling around her body.

"I'm not cold. You were reliable, you kept me warm."

They laid still and silent for a long time, but her breathing told him she was awake, both enjoying the afterglow of their intense love making. 

His mind wandered, only happy places, who would ever thought, I'd have so many happy memories and emotions to choose from...and then one thought sticked, stayed, cristal-clear. He always thought, he needed to prepare, wait for the perfect moment, get down on his knees...but this was the moment, here, their moment. It felt right, like nothing before in his life.

She felt his arms tightening around her and slid down from his chest to stretch next to him. When she opened her eyes, she saw him looking at her, and smiled. If he had needed any further reassurance, this would have done it, but even without it, there was no way holding back now.

"Marry me."

He saw her eyes, saw the surprise, a moment of shock, softening again, and then, love, he hoped at least it was love what he saw, and finally filling with tears. All that within seconds. 

"Carrie...could you please say something...?"

"Quinn..."

"I know we never spoke about it and I don't even know what you think about marriage as a concept at all but..."

She kissed him to stop him, he could taste some salty tears.

"Quinn, stop...wait...marriage as a concept...for ordinary people...suburban, square and boring..." She was still kissing him. "Marriage with you...yes, the answer is yes, I want that, how could I not?! Say it again please."

He only noticed the weight on his heart when it was released by her words (and kisses).

"Would you please marry me?"

She laughed and pulled back a bit to look at him. "You didn't say 'please' the first time."

"Marry me."

"Better." She laughed again and he felt confident to brush her tears away with his thumb. "The answer is still yes." She kissed him again, deeper this time and he felt strangely light-headed, but...the universe was still moving...and she had said yes...

"Why did you cry then? That was not the reaction I was hoping for..."

"It's sappy."

"Tell me."

"I think when it comes to committing each other to be there, for better or worse, we don't need another promise. I made mine when I sat at your bedside in Ramstein and I know you made yours long before. And numerous times since then. But you know when I was younger, a teenager, of course I had romantic dreams about getting 'the question'. Only...after I was diagnozed, I knew it would never happen. And when I cried I realized how wrong I was, because I didn't know about you, back then. And how it fits, that you don't ask, but just tell me, to marry you, because you don't need to ask - how could I ever say 'no'."

"It's not sappy. And I am glad I am the first and only one to ask. And what you said about committment...it's true...but I still wanted it...I want to say "my wife"...that's sappy and suburban, I guess..."

"Indeed, it is" she smirked.

"There is a ring, of course. But it is at home. But you'll get it and I promise to go down on my knees then."

"Since when were you planning this if there is a ring?"

"A while...as I said, anticipation is half the fun. You're still not cold?"

"No, you held your promises." He pulled her closer and kissed her again, hoping she felt how he was promising her his life with that kiss. But he wasn't going to say that, that was absolutely too sappy...

They stayed at the beach until dawn, even slept a few hours there and their love making in the early morning was a slow bout, very different from the night, a wordless and tender connection.

They sneaked back into the house just before Frannie woke up and when Maggie later wondered why her sister had sand in all her clothes and hair and a blissful smile all day, she had the good grace not to comment on it. 

The weekend ended as happy as it had started and when they dropped John in Philadelphia Quinn walked him to the door and gave him a hug as good-bye. He declined Julia's offer for a cup of coffee but said he'd like to meet her and Ted for lunch the following week, to thank her for allowing John to go on the weekend trip.

"That meant a lot, Jule, to me that meant a lot."

"Thank Carrie. And...happy belated birthday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally...he asked her...the ring being in his nightstand for ages now...I know, in another universe this will highly likely never happen, but here, it does, and it felt right for this universe. Two more chapters.


	49. Four more letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my tortured LJ friends...after so much sleuthing about "the letter" you deserve some sentimental fluff and romance.

August 1975

John,

you just left and I already miss you. Last night I thought I had said everything there is to say, but now, as you are out of the door, again going to an unknown destination, I feel like I didn't say enough. 

Dar stopped by again, after he had dropped you at the airport (I assume that this is where he dropped you) and wanted to check on me. He promised to make sure you'll get this letter what makes me think he will follow you to wherever you are. He was as mysterious as ever but I really appreciate his efforts to take care of me, especially since he knows about our baby. Did I tell you that he stops by every now and then, always with some unhealthy food, mostly donuts. We never mention his dead wife and the baby, I don't even knows whether he knows that I know about them. But knowing what he went through and probably still does makes me appreciate his visits even more. But he seems to get more bitter every time I see him. Do you ever speak about it? 

Our baby...just a couple of more weeks and the baby will be with us. I have the feeling it's gonna be a boy. And I know I shouldn't ask you for this, and I hate the fact I am doing it now but I just feel so desperate right now, but I so much wish you will be here when the time comes. Not that I am afraid of it, I'll manage and you will not be allowed in the delivery unit anyway. But I wish we could be together when we see our baby the first time, I wish I could see you holding him. I hope he'll look like you, so I can look at him and see you. Today, he is kicking a lot. Like he wants to let me know, I'm not alone here.

I guess being pregnant messes up my hormones or whatever, I am feeling very sentimental these days...on the verge of tears most of the time.

I never asked you this before but right now, after last night and your last weeks here at home, I feel I just have to. Stop doing this work, whatever it is. It feels like it is eating you alive, each time you come back, it feels like a piece of your soul is missing and it takes you longer to recover. Not physically, but to be you again. I know you won't tell me what exactly is it what makes you like that and Dar won't either, but I know you long enough to see it's getting worse. And I've seen my brother returning from Vietnam, never recovering from what he saw there. Or did there...I don't know, he never speaks about it. Sometimes, you have the same empty, desperate look. So I am asking you - stop it. Whatever it is, stop it and we'll figure it out. There are other things you could do.

And as soon as the baby is a bit bigger I could return to teaching, my mum could take care of the little one a few hours every day, I know you probably won't like the idea of me being the breadwinner, but I could provide for our family, at least as long as you'll need to figure out what you want to do. I earn less than you but I don't mind to cut back expenses - but please consider what I am saying.

It's not only just you and me anymore but the little one too, and he'll need both of us. 

I know I should have talked about this with you over the last days but I didn't know how to phrase it. But right now, the words were coming and I felt I have to reach out to you and tell you.

I'll wait for you, as always. But sometimes I'm afraid that one day you won't come back. 

Dar said to pick up the letter tonight so I finish now.

I love you, that will never change,

Ella

 

October 1975

John,

our baby is born. It's indeed a boy. I named him Peter John Alistair. He is as healthy as a baby can be. 20.5 inches and 8.2 pounds and a bunch of dark hair. 

Dar tracked me at the hospital when he did not find me at home when he was about to check on me. He said he can get a message to you this afternoon so I hope you'll get it.

I am happy, unbelievably happy, and deeply in love with our son. 

But I'm sad, too, you should've been here, with me, today.

Please come back soon.

I love you,

Ella

 

March 1983

John,

I know you just left a couple of days ago. But you know me, writing you makes me feel closer to you, so I keep writing. And again am utterly thankful that Dar is willing to stretch the rules and allows my messages to get through to you. He even told me where you are this time...Lebanon. But I guess, he is really pissed with me, after you told him that this is finally and really your last mission.

I guess I made a huge mistake when he came over to have a coffee the other day and gave me a scrutinizing look. I blurted out that he of all people should understand me, that Peter has nobody besides you and me, since my mother died and my brother...did what he did...unforgivebable as it might be in my mother's eyes...she was catholic after all. I felt bad immediatly afterwards, because I saw I hit a raw nerve there. I guess, he'll never get over it. But, who would? I certainly couldn't muster the strength to carry on, but he does...but he is so bitter, that he sometimes scares me.

But, this is not about Dar, this is about us. I am so excited about the upcoming changes. You will be out, finally out, we can start over new, and you will never have to return to this soul-eating past of yours. I know I might maybe not know half of it (or even less) but it still often keeps me awake at night, so I can only imagine how it must be for you.

But you know, we are here, waiting for you. I know you fear what's ahead of you, but you're not alone. Peter still speaks about that air show the two of you went the other week. I see how much he misses you. When he comes home from school, he sits in his room staring at the Lego constructions you did with him last week. Only staring, not touching or playing. He refuses to talk about how much he misses you but sometimes he crawls into my bed at night. He hasn't done this for ages, so I guess, it's his way to cope. I wish he'd open up more, I'm his mum after all, but he is like you, not much one for words. 

He will be so happy when you are back. And not just for a few weeks but this time to stay. And I will be the happiest woman in the world, after all those years, we'll have a different life. And be together. That's all I ever wanted. And whatever comes next...I don't care, we'll figure it out.

Just come back one last time and I'll make it all happen for you, whatever you want, whatever you need.

I love you,

Ella

 

March 1983

Elisabeth, dearest Ella,

this is my last letter to you and I hope you'll never read it. Strange though, as there were so many letters we wrote over the years. But with this one, I hope you'll never have to read it.

I never got why Dar allowed you, even assisted you getting those letters to me while on missions, as you know we have a no communication-rule most of the times. I always felt you were kind of his only weak spot after his wife and son died. 

But I'm avoiding. Writing this letter and any of its predecessors is hard, has always been hard, because it's a good bye in case I don't return. And now it's even harder as we are on the verge if starting a new life.

I know you wanted this for years. And looking back I feel like the biggest fool not following your wish earlier. So much wasted time. But somehow I always convinced myself that I was needed there, that I was doing important things, which have to be done. That it is my role in this world to do what I did. But it took me too long to realize what toll it takes, not only from me but from you and Peter as well.

So, if destiny has a different plan for me and I won't come back this time, please know that I was utterly determined to proceed out, I was serious about our new life. And know how grateful I am. For your patience, for your love, for your affection and tenderness. My life would have been empty and bleak without you. And our son. And without you I'd never managed to keep the darkness at bay and to find a way to deal with my regrets and sins. So if worse comes to worse, know I was happy, finally happy, looking forward to a future with you.

And I am so sorry for not getting out earlier when there was still time...I know now how wrong I was.

I love you,

John

 

\----------------------------------

November 2016

Carrie carefully put the letters back on the desk, back next to the need stack of letters and looked at Quinn. It was a Saturday night, one of the weekends without him going to Philly, and he had spent all afternoon in the downstairs bedroom, apparently reading those letters. She had tried to busy herself, had stand in front if the door several times but always decided not to go in. He would tell her when he needed her...or was ready to share any of it. 

He was doing ok these days, more than ok, since they had returned from their weekend away. Last weekend had been Johnny's first weekend with them and this had been good too. Quinn had taken both kids to a bike shop on Saturday morning and had bought bikes for the three of them. Early christmas presents, he had said, but honestly, she didn't mind if he was spoiling the children. Saturday afternoon he and Johnny had spent teaching Frannie how to ride her bike and on Sunday morning just the two of them had gone on a bike trip down the river. They had had a late lunch, all four of them, and then Quinn had driven John back towards Philadelphia. Ted had met them halfway, in Aberdeen, so Quinn was back a good three hours later, calm and happy. Next weekend, he would go to Philadelphia, but spend a night there in a motel, so he could meet John Saturday and Sunday.

If this arrangements would be permanent, Carrie was fine with it, as it meant, Quinn was able to see Johnny two full weekends a months but had only to be away one weekend.

They hadn't discussed the details of their wedding yet, although Carrie was wearing a beautiful engagement ring now, which had brought on a full blow of tears when Maggie had seen it. Carrie smiled at the memory of that incident. Quinn had hold his promise and had went down on his knees the night they came back from the ocean. For Carrie this had been absolutely unnecessary, the proposal at the beach had been perfect, she didn't need, didn't want, anything else. But he had insisted - and in secret she had to admit to herself...it had been very touching too - and had kneeled down in their bedroom before they were about to go to bed and this time, it hadn't been a simple but perfect 'marry me', he extended it to a "please, marry me" and of course her answer had been 'yes' again. And afterwards...well, it came in handy that the bed was right next to them...

Maggie saw the ring the next day, when Carrie shyly went over to tell her the news, somehow she felt that she should tell deliberately before Maggie just happened to see the ring. Maggie, usually always so controlled, had started to cry immediatly, telling her how happy she was again and again. Carrie had asked her to be patient about the details of the wedding, they both needed some time to get their heads around the planning, but it would be small. Managing expectations was always important with Maggie.

Quinn had told her about the letters, or more specific, about what Dar had said about the letters one night in bed and she had encouraged him to read them. Which brought her back to today. He had finally come out of the room, quite a while after Frannie had gone to bed and had apologized for missing dinner, as he kind of had lost track of time. But he had looked calm, sad but calm.

He had directed her to the couch then, asking if she wanted to read some of the letters and when she had agreed, he had chosen some for her, saying she could read the other letters too whenever she wanted - she just had read and put back the chosen letters on the table.

"These are very sad, knowing what happened in the end..."

"Yeah, I thought so too. But in a way, it was unexpected and good, to get a glimpse on their personalities and what they were thinking. I remember so little of them."

"They loved each other. And they loved you. The letter your mum wrote while she was highly pregnant is very touching. But apparently she didn't know what he was doing, back then."

"No, she didn't. From what I can see from the letters, he told her about two years later. And then she begged him, in every letter, to stop. And he wanted to, but said he couldn't. Too deep down the rabbithole..."

"But you managed."

"Yeah, I did. And reading these all day made my once again realize how glad I am. I sat in there and was counting my blessings. Isn't it strange how much our stories are alike, my dad's and mine? He even missed my birth..."

"That note is very sad. But so beautiful in a way too. Your mum just got her eyes on you and is completely smitten and in love."

"I was told this is what happens after birth...shit, Carrie, I'm sorry..."

"It's okay. I'll always regret that I missed so much of Frannie's first year but I know about my feelings for her now...and I know that I wasn't healthy back then...so, yes,...I guess that what happens, after birth."

"You know, next time would be different."

"Probably. But it still scares me."

"It would be the two of us. And I would make sure you are ok, I wouldn't let you alone for a single day, you know that?"

"Yes, that I know. And I know now I can do it, I can be a mum. But I'm still sad that I didn't feel like this with Frannie, when she was born. But it's nice to read how happy your mum was. She adored you. And I understand now even better what Dar's referring to when he said, she'd be proud of you."

"The last letter is the worst. So hopeful...and it never happened...just before he was out. Such a waste."

They were silent for a while, his arm around her shoulder and she reached out to to hold his hand.

"There is nothing to add to this. It is sad. It just made me realize again how important it is to live and love now and as long as we can...and not to let the agency rule or mess with our lives." 

"You're again considering to leave the agency?" Carrie gave him a quizzical look.

"Not really. I mean, where should I go then? There is no chance to pass any background check for another job, so I guess I'm stuck. But I'm fine with what I'm doing now. If my work helps to prevent killings in opposite to bring death and destruction with my very own hands I am fine with it. But who knows...I'm not pushing it...but I won't stick to my chair if something else comes along."

"You know what's interesting? You said Dar knows the letters."

"Yes, otherwise I wouldn't have 'em."

"Did you know about his wife and child?"

"No."

"I always wondered what made him so..."

"Yeah, well, somehow we are all damaged. But I'll tell him I read the letters when I see him, then he'll know I know."

"I guess he wants you to know. Otherwise he wouldn't have pointed you into the direction of these letters."

Quinn got up and started to prepare a fire, the nights were really could already, but what would one expect in November? He just couldn't remember when he had spend his last winter in the US. He thought about Carrie's last remark. Probably she was right. Maybe it was his time to buy a box of donuts and hear to the list of regrets and grief of the old devil...

While he was stacking the wood and rummaging around for matches Carrie stretched on the couch and if it hadn't been for the very casual tone of her question he wouldn't had noticed how tensed up she suddenly was, but the tone was a tiny bit too casual for the topic she brought up.

"Do you ever think about how different your life might be if he had made it out in time? And they both had survived?"

He didn't answer for a while, after all, it was a complex question. 

When he had lit the fire he returned to the couch and pulled Carrie's feet in his lap, starting to press his thumbs in her soles.

"I can't say, I never did. And probably you assume I did it today. Which I did. When I was a kid, the first years I just wanted them back. I was awake at night, in the first foster home and was hoping that it was a mistake, that at least one of them was still alive, looking for me. In my fantasy, they didn't know where I was but eventually they would find me. At least one of them. But it never happened. Of course not. But, fuck, I was seven. I didn't even have a photo of them. And I forgot how they looked. In the beginning I could see and smell my mum when I closed my eyes but week after week my memory faded. I never learnt where she's buried, if she was buried after all."

His hands hold her feet and legs in his lap, with firm pressure, so she couldn't move closer to him. She tried but he kept the pressure firm as if to keep her where she was.

"Things got bad over the following years, you know that, and I stopped remembering them. Sounds terrible from today's point of view, but back then - what was the point, that life was lost. Nobody ever spoke with me about them. Not that a lot of people spoke with me, anyway. Only a few years later, when Dar was back in my life, he used some heroic tales about my father to...form...me. And the next person asking about them was you. I asked myself that very question in winter and didn't find an answer. Who knows what would have happened then? Although I wish I could just erase some of the years and experiences. Most of them, in fact. You know why. But, be that as it may, asking myself that question today - what happened, happened, and now...as fucked up as I was...I have all I ever could wish for...more actually...I am with you, with Frannie...even John is part of our life now...you will marry me...I wouldn't wanna trade that for anything, believe me. And I refuse to weigh that against my fucked up childhood and youth, I just don't go there. So, there is no answer, because it happened exactly how it happened, for whatever reason. But knowing their history now, I am even more determined to use my chance, with you and the kids. So, the only answer I have is: this here is the best possible life I can imagine, now and for what is ahead of us. Is that enough?"

"More than enough. Hey, you know what made me smile?"

"Dar's donuts?"

"That, too. But I am talking about your mom suggesting she could be the breadwinner. I guess that was something, back in the seventies. She was a strong, independant woman."

"She'd have liked you, I guess. I like strong, independant women...well, one in particular. Come here." He pulled her up and on his lap. She knew what he was up to when he asked her with a mischievous grin if she didn't find it warm.

"Now as you are mentioning it - I do find it very warm."

"I could help you with that."

And with that, he started to undress her, and then himself and pulled her back on his lap, with very clear intentions now. She laughed, a warm and full laughter, and he was glad that his answer had apparently been right and enough for her. And it was the truth, whatever shit it had needed to get here, he was happy now. 

Their love-making was gentle, a slow rise and fall, right there on the couch, she sitting on him, her legs around his waist, looking into his eyes. When she came with him, she was clinging to his shoulders, while his arms were wrapped around her torso, covering as much of her skin as possible, and it was one of those times when she cried silently afterwards. It happened every now and then and always brought on a huge wave of tenderness in him.

"Whatever it is, it's gonna be ok. Just tell me and we'll find a way."

"It's just so sad that we have no parents at our wedding. My dad would have been so happy. He'd liked you. But I did not think about that while we were making love, but then, I thought how happy I am and it suddenly crept in."

"You don't have to apologize, I know you still miss your dad. And although I just met him once, I bet, there is nothing in the world he'd have liked better than walking you down the aisle."

She snuggled deeper into his arms, considering his words.

"Maybe it's time to plan a bit? What would you like?"

"Just you and me."

She felt him laughing, his chest was vibrating.

"I'm almost fine with that. But don't you think it's fair with Maggie and the kids? They should be there."

There was not so much to say to that, she still missed her father, but there was no one else she could imagine to be with her that day, walking down the aisle. Or, yes, actually there was.

"Fine, they can be there. But..."

"No, wait, let's finish that first. Who else would you want to be there? I think, we should invite Saul. And Otto and Astrid."

"Saul?"

"Carrie, don't you think it's time to let it go? You can't keep him at arm's length forever."

"Uhm. I'll think about it, ok? What about Rob and your old team?"

"You wouldn't mind that? They all have good cover stories at hand, there wouldn't be embarrassing moments with your family."

"I bet they have... But, when we spoke about my father, about him not being there to walk me down the aisle...I think I would not have wanted anyway. This is not me, not us. Nobody can give me to you. I want us to go in together, I don't want you to wait inside. Would you do this for me?"

"If you want it that way, of course." Actually, he liked the thought, as she was right, it was fitting for them to walk those steps together.

"And there's one more thing. I would like to keep my name, if you don't mind. I thought about it a lot, and it wouldn't be fair to Frannie and besides from that, you are Quinn, so I can't change to Mrs. Quinn. That wouldn't feel right."

"Carrie, stop it. It is ok. I don't mind at all. I had so many names in my life, it doesn't make any difference. And we don't do this for other people, to demonstrate anything, I marry you, because I want this for us, and I couldn't care less about the name question."

He wiggled to see her face. "Hey, someone's getting nervous here. We don't have to this, Carrie."

"No, no, I want it. I really do. I just don't know..."

"We are free to do this how we want. Nobody else has a saying in this. You wanna keep your name, fine. We gonna invite a bunch of black ops guys, fine, nobody of our civil guests will have an idea what these guys do to earn a living. We walk into the room together, fine, too. And you don't want to wear a white dress, that's fine too."

"How do you know that I don't wanna wear I white dress?"

"Do you want one?"

"Gosh, no. Of course not."

"See. I learnt a bit about you over the last year...As far as I am concerned you don't have to wear anything at all, but I guess that would raise some eyebrows..."

She giggled and he was pleased that he finally had found a topic around her wedding which didn't scare here.

"Actually, I already have a dress. But you won't see it before that day. But I'm pretty sure you'll like it."

"How come you already have a dress when we haven't even set a date yet?"

"I saw it and it was love at first sight, when you were in Philly last time. So I bought it. And about the date...I thought maybe the week after christmas? The kids are off school then and John could come down for a couple of days then...what d'you think?"

"I like it...although I am surprised how fast we suddenly are, after settling the guest list was a bit difficult..."

"Leaves one question."

"Another one? I don't care about the food, the cake, whatever, let Maggie plan that, she'll love to be involved."

"Great idea. But I was talking about our honeymoon."

"We do that? After you didn't want a wedding dress and no guests, I wasn't sure about that either" he teased her.

"Oh, I think, that we would have done even without getting married. I think it's time for a couple of days just for the two of us. And no, don't even suggest to take Frannie along."

"Uhm...sounds promising...where do you wanna go?"

"Somewhere warm and sunny. And to a place where you've never been before."

"Why's that?"

"Because if you've been there before, it was work related and then...I don't want you to have bad memories while we are on honeymoon..." 

That was fair he thought, I wouldn't wanna go to a place where she killed someone or performed drone strikes myself too.

"Asia is pretty white on my map. And it's warm."

"What do you think about Thailand then?"

"Sounds great."

"Good. So, we are done planning. I'll leave the rest with Maggie, that's an excellent idea."

He reached out for her hand and played with her engagement ring, turning it around her finger.

"You feel good about that?"

"I do, about the idea itself. The prospect of having a wedding reception with all those people, I find a bit intimidating. And you?"

"As I said that night at the beach, I just want you to be with me all my life, and I don't mind other people witnessing it. Actually, I think, at least your family deserves to be with us during happy times too, after all those months and years they helped us through rougher times."

"Gosh, sometimes you are so fucking political correct these days that I miss your old badass self..."

She fell asleep soon afterwards, curled up in his arm on the couch. He wondered if she would ever learn to appreciate the people in her life who valued her, liked her, loved her. But on the other hand, credit where it's due, she had opened up a lot, had gone great length with Otto and Astrid, Julia and Ted and John. Maybe it took just some time, and even if not, he himself was not the most sociable guy himself, so this was okay with him.

Time to get her to bed, Frannie would be up early, that hadn't changed. But, last weekend, John had played with her until almost nine, that had been a very welcome development, and he smiled at the memory of the cute smiles he had gotten when he had checked on them in Frannie's room where they played with Lego. Frannie had insisted that John stayed in her room during his visit and so he had heard her rummaging around in the morning and that had allowed Carrie and him to sleep in.

He quickly checked on the fire, which had nearly gone out anyway, used his feet to push all of their scattered clothes into a somehow neat pile, no need that Frannie got her feet trapped in her mum's bra first thing in the morning, and scooped Carrie to carry her to bed. When he settled her down in their bed she didn't wake up but turned around on her belly. He briefly caressed her back with a long strong along the spine down to her butt, enjoying her soft curves.

He was just about to pull the cover up when she pulled her left knee upwards and by doing so offered him a view hard to resist. He briefly chuckled at the prospect of vacation with her, somewhere in a nice hotel at the andaman sea, we will barely make it of the room, he thought. Still he hesitated, she was asleep after all, but decided to give in to his urging, again. He brought himself over her, carefully balacing his weight on his elbows, and lowering himself down to her back to kiss her shoulders and her nape. She let a small sigh but didn't move. Promising. So he went on, leaving a trail of soft kisses on her shoulders, making his way to her ear, kissing and nuzzling her neck and earlobes. He felt her breathing under his chest and was pretty sure, she was at least half awake.

"Sh, sh, no need to wake up again. Just allow me to play a bit with you. I'll make it your worthwile, I promise. You don't have to do anything, in fact, I don't want you to move a single inch, because just like this...you are so fucking beautiful...just looking at you blows my mind, each and every time..."

He felt himself getting hard against her buttocks and her wiggling told him she indeed was noticing him.

"Feel that...you do that to me...I just thought about about our vacation, just you and me, and that's what happened..." He nibbled at her earlobe and the way she was wiggling her butt now let no doubt that she was awake enough to give encouragement.

He moved one hand down to caress her thigh and hip and when his hand went around her thigh he kissed her neck again and whispered in her ear, his voice husky. 

"I just can't resist you, even if I just had you, I can't get enough. I'll be gentle, I just want to make you come before you go to sleep." Engulfing her with his whole body like his single purpose was to shield her against the outside world was something he always found deeply satisfying, not only for the pleasure he was soon about to get and give, but also because it was just the way he felt, for her. He wanted to protect her, he wanted to be a safe harbour for her. That was, after all, how it had all started.

His fingers found her entrance and he used is index finger to go a bit further and softly play with her tiny nub. Her breathing accelerated but she couldn't move, his hips pressed her down on the matrass. When he stopped stimulating her he used his hand to steady her hip while slowly entering her. Her hips had now more room to wiggle and cant and she met his slow strokes by rocking back and forth. They found their rhythm, keeping their restraint, almost indolent pace until the end. When he finally felt he was going to come soon, his hand went down again, around her leg, and slipped between her and the matrass. 

"Come with me....now..." he whispered into her ear and underlined his wish by flitting his thumb over her clit a few times. He felt her coming with him, her whole body shivering beneath him, his own orgasm nearly secondary to the tenderness and contentment filling his chest.

Afterwards, when he reluctantly had pulled himself out of her and released her from his bulk, she snuggled next to him, curled up in her favourite afterglow position, head on his shoulder, one leg mingled with his legs, his arm around her shoulder, her upper arm draped over his chest, where it met his other hand. She was already half asleep, boneless and pliant against his body. He would just hold her and let her drift into a hopefully calm night. Nightmares had gotten much rarer these days but they still were lingering in the shadows, showing there ugly presence every now and then.

He kissed her on top of her head and sensed her murmured "I love you" more than he actually heard the words. Sleep still didn't come easily to him but he had learnt to appreciate that quiet hour between day and night. His mind wandered back to his parents' letters, to a father who had died younger than he was today, to a mother who had seen it coming and had done everything in her power to pull her husband back but hadn't succeeded. In a way, it felt like coming full circle, finally finishing what they had started several decades ago. There was an odd solace in that thought, and while musing about it, he drifted away as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought, the ring might look like this http://www.renesim.com/produkte/wien-saphir-blau-platin


	50. Anniversary

November moved into December, which brought the first snow. Frannie was delighted, Carrie not so much, did it mean, that one of them had to get up half an hour earlier to clean the driveway and the cars. Usually Quinn volunteered for this task but that left making breakfast and coffee to her.

The wedding preperations were in full swing, of course the whole thing had gotten a bit bigger as originally intended when Maggie - to her absolute delight - had been named as wedding planer. But, credit where it's due, she had to admit, Maggie really tried not to overdo it. She had found them a small church, a lovely restaurant nearby for the reception, and as Carrie had absolutely forbidden classic printed embossed invitation cards, the girls had handcrafted very nice cards - using a photo from their weekened away, Bill had captured them sitting together at the beach, Quinn's arm around Carrie's shoulder, the two of them looking at each other and smiling - all that gave Carrie some time to consider her own wedding preparations.

She had called Otto but just to learn that he'd be in Washington couple of days later, he had just scheduled a short hand notice trip, so she had decided to share the news personally, not over the phone.

She had paid Saul a visit which was long overdue, she had refused to meet him privately outside the agency ever since she had returned from Germany last winter. Like she had before, since Islamabad. He had never commented on it but when she rang his doorbell one rainy november evening she had seen his genuine surprise and delight in his eyes. They had sat for nearly seven hours - she had texted Quinn after two hours that she was fine and that it would be a long night - and had finally talked. Carrie still was not willing to understand what had happened in Islamabad but she was able to see that not killing Haqqani with that drone and her talking him back into the hands of the Taliban and the following prisoners' exchange had been the start of a spiral no-one could have foreseen. Still, even with that knowledge, she was glad that Quinn had stopped her from killing Saul when they were after Haqqani.

"None of us is without guilt" Saul had said with a very sad smile and she knew, he was right.

He had admitted how difficult it had been for him to understand Carrie's concern and anger about Islamabad and the aftermath, all the years before they had always been on the same page.

Carrie had told him how disappointed she had been exactly because of this. He had always challenged her to bring great personal sacifices for the right cause, her time in the psych ward to trap Javadi and talking Brody into the Iran mission, to name just two, and then he himself bailed out through simple blackmail. They hadn't been able to agree on that topic, they never would. But, and that indeed had changed, she had been able to see know that all humans sometimes fail, that everybody at some point in life might take a decision with horrible consequences, even Saul.

She had said she couldn't promise him whether they ever could go back to the faith and familiarity of the old days, she wasn't that person anymore, but that she wanted him at their wedding exactly because of the said old days.

They had left it with that but still, compared to the months before, it felt better now, he had been one of the few important persons in her life for so long.

When Otto had been in DC she had met him for lunch and he had been genuinly excited and happy with the news, and even more pleased when he she had asked him to come to the wedding and bring Astrid as well.

The letters were still present in both of their minds and although Quinn had said, and she believed him, he wasn't questioning what his life would be today if at least his mother had survived, she could see and feel his parents' fate still lingering over his mind and mood. Over the following weeks she had read all the letters as well, and it was nothing short of a tragedy how that loving and apparently happy family had been erased and Quinn's younger self had been swallowed by a system which hadn't done any good. She herself took the letters as huge warning to legally settle the question who would take care of Frannie in case anything should happen to her. She had always known Maggie would step in then, and obviously had stepped in in the past, but they had never settled it in writing. And with Quinn soon being her husband things had changed anyway. When she had asked him whether adopting Frannie could be an option for him, he had smiled a beautiful, broad smile, had pulled her in a very tight embrace and had whispered ,I'd thought, you'd never ask.' That had made her nearly more happy than his wedding proposal.

He had insisted on involving Frannie into the decision and had taken her to the zoo one day. After visiting the crocodiles and hippos, her favorites these days, he had proposed to her, as he put it. And Frannie had accepted but had suprised not only him but later that day Carrie as well with a challenging question. She had been asking whether they would all have the same name then. 

It had taken her three days to come to terms with it but finally she had decided that her daughter's wish was more important than her own preferances and emancipational thoughts - in a way, she could understand her, the whole bullying episode about Frannie not having a father still in her mind. In her little mind she was longing for a visible sign for everybody to see:They were a family and she had a dad. Quinn had offered to be a Mathison, for him names were just names, after the wedding but she had wanted him to be Quinn. Which only left one option: After the wedding, it would be Carrie and Frannie Quinn. And now, with the decision made, it felt not too bad, it felt actually quite good.

After that had been settled they had visited a lawyer, had gotten the adoption procedure running and taken care to get settled in writing not only Maggie and Bill being Frannie's guardians in case anything should happen to her and Quinn but had taken care of the trust fund for Frannie as well.

Going with Maggie through the guest list and choosing a cake had been easy tasks compared to that marathon session at the lawyer's office.

But besides the obvious consequences the lecture of the letters had had, they had other, less immediate, effects. He often spent some time in the downstairs room, re-reading them and going through the photos. Some of the letters contained short depictions of mundane scenes from his early childhood, his mother had always included some of these into her letters when his father had been on a mission. Short descriptions about him learning to walk, a visit to the doctor, learning to swim, their nighttime routine, his favourite books and toys, having scarlet fever when he was four, nothing special in anybody's life but so special to him. And with that, more and more of his own memories came back. That, and the grief. But she could only guess, he didn't speak a lot about it. He had cried twice at night after a dream but hadn't been able to remember the dream. It was not his depression coming back, it was just a very late mourning, something what hadn't ever been allowed to him when he had lost his childhood. Carrie herself felt a helpless anger, how could a society hurt a vulnerable child so much, how could it happen that nobody cared, and those who had been paid to care had abused that trust in unspeakable ways? She herself out of all people had no right to be angry with Elisabeth, she had been probably severly suicidal depressive when deciding to end her life and there should have been precautions in place to prevent her from going there, but still...

All of that had made her to come to a decision which had required some digging and a visit to Dar, which in the end had brought her here, today in that bleak December afternoon, into the Langley parking lot, waiting for Quinn. She wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing but it was not that she could change it anymore so she just had to tell him. Maggie had supported her in her decision right from the beginning and, again, took care for Frannie today.

At lunch she had asked him to finish early and go with her to the cemetary to put some flowers on her father's grave. The question itself wasn't unusual, she went quite often and he went with her from time to time. Usually on weekends but he didn't question why she wanted to go today. The sudden loss of Frank and her not being with him in his last weeks but staying in Islamabad was still with her, probably always would. At least she had a place to go to. He had never believed this might be important, but when considering death, it had always been his own and back then there was nobody who would have mourned him, so considerations about where beloved ones go to grieve and remember had been nothing but not applicable to his life. But now, he started to understand the concept of grief.

He kissed her briefly when entering the car, spotting two bouquets of flowers in the back seat.

-Why is it two?

-Oh, that...I liked them both, couldn't decide for a colour, so I took a white and a red one.

-I guess, your dad won't mind, but sometimes you are really weird.

She smiled at him.

-Nothing really new, isn't it?

-No, not really.

He smiled back and kissed her again. 

It was a cold day, but had stopped snowing in the morning, but still the heaven was heavy with grey clouds. Wheather forecast promised more snow for the night but towards the weekend finally the sun was supposed to make a rare appearance. 

Quinn had promised Frannie to decorate the house with season's decoration and lights on Saturday, John would be with them for the weekend. It was the first time in her life that Carrie was going to have a christmas tree in her own place and christmas decorations. And she had to admit, whereas she was not particulary as engaged as Quinn and Frannie in all the christmassy excitement, she liked it. 

She liked baking gingerbread with Frannie, she liked seeing Frannie feeding Quinn and John with the leftovers of the dough (John absolutely had inherited his father's sweet tooth), she liked how excited Frannie had gotten when her dad (she constantly called Quinn dad now, which made Carrie wonder if the adoption had done more good than she ever had dared to hope) took her to the shop to buy decorations and came home with a car load of it, he had gotten a bit crazy about the whole thing. ,What can I say', he had shrugged and smiled, ,she liked them all and I just could not say no, I loved christmas when I was little.' Well, what could she say against that? 

One night they had a heated discussion about doing the elf on a shelf or not. Maggie did it with her girls but Carrie was clearly against it whereas Quinn was eager to introduce any kind of christmas tradition as long as Frannie liked it. But he agreed when Carrie argued she would not allow her daughter to grow up in the believe that spying on people in their private homes could be justified just because it was elves doing it. She called it unwarranted christmas surveillance techniques, and Quinn finally fold, with huge laughter, calling her a sweet hypocrit. Frannie had a german advent calendar now, he had asked Astrid to send one for her and one for John.

Carrie had insisted on a real, not an artifical tree, Jonas' parents, like everybody in Germany, always had had a real tree, and it wasn't set up before the morning of December 24. She always had loved the smell of it when coming to their house for the christmas celebrations. 

Over her season's musings she had nearly forgotten Quinn's presence in the car. When she pulled into the cemetary's parking lot he made a remark about her being unusual quiet this day, and she thought, that now, she was indeed a bit nervous, maybe she should have asked him before.

They each carried one of the bouquets when making there way to Frank's grave, Quinn's arm around her shoulder. It had taken him months to get comfortable with not having his gun hand free. Well, habits of more or less a life time...

-You know what day it's today?

-My memory skills are just fine...Thursday...why are you asking? Is it parents meeting at school or did I forget anything else?

-No...it's just, today it's a year to the day Saul took me to Germany to see you.

He squeezed her shoulder.

-I didn't know that.

-You know what the doctor told me after your surgery? He said, it's gonna be a marathon, not short distance. I'm glad, he was right.

-And I'm glad I'm in team Mathison. Otherwise I'd been fucked.

-Well, it's gonna be team Quinn soon.

-You still ok with that, Mrs Quinn?

-Yeah, the longer I think, the more I think Frannie's right. We are a family, and everybody can know that. And I do get that she wants us to have the same name. That way, when she starts school, nobody will ever ask her, who her dad is or why you don't have the same name. I hate all the paperwork that comes along with it, though.

They took a turn into the alley where Frank's gravesite was located. Carrie felt her stomache clenching, she was just hoping she did the right thing.

-Uhm, I gotta tell you something...maybe I should've before...

He gave her a quizzical look.

-It's maybe a bit dark.

-Carrie...what is it? I thought we were trying to be done with darkness...

As if we ever could, she thought, but didn't say it, she didn't want to depress him, after all.

It was just a few more steps.

-I saw Dar a while ago. He helped me with this. The site was available and I thought, it might be nice to have a place to go to...for you too...and they are family now...so they should be here...I thought...

She was rambling and she knew it. They arrived at the site. Left to Frank's grave was a newly set up headstone. A large rough boulder, cornish stone, carrying the names of his parents, the dates of birth and death, and a bit below the dates the reference 'Ruth 1:16'.

The grib around her shoulder was hard as iron but she had to say it all now.

-Dar helped me to locate your mum's ashes. Back then, he had paid for her cremation and her urn to be kept in a columbarium near...the clinic...

His grip tightened even more. She wished he would say something.

-Dar being the legal owner of that spot could have arranged transfer but I wanted you to make that decision. There are no remains of your father but Dar has his dogtag and his military medals. He always thought one day you'd come and want to know more.

She had said it all.

-I'm sorry.

His voice was hoarse when he answered.

-Don't be sorry. What does the bible verse say?

She swallowed.

-,Don't urge me to leave you or turn back from you. Where you go I will go. Where you stay I will stay.' It was their wedding verse. It continues in verse 17 with 'Where you die I will die.'

He pulled her in a tight, hurtful embrace, one hand still holding the flowers.

-You couldn't decide for a colour...you have an awful pokerface...

She felt a kiss on the top of her head, then he let go of her and turned towards the stone, making a quick cross on his chest, laying the flowers down. Then he just stood still, face away from her.

She put the other bouquet on her dad's site, thinking 'Sorry, Dad, today isn't about you.' and then stepped next to Quinn, who grabbed her hand and squeezed it borderline painful. She wanted to hug him but somehow felt he wasn't there yet. And right, when he turned to look at her, she saw a moist glitter in his eyes but the muscle at his jawline twitching.

-Can we please go home? I can't do this here. Please.

They drove the short distance in silence. Days were short in December and it was dim when they left the cemetary, dark when they arrived home. There would be more snow tonight.

When they were inside she was about to reach for the light switch but before she was at it he stopped her, pulling her close, bending down and kissing her hard. She felt an urgency in that kiss she hadn't expected, pent-up emotions, obviously not only pleasant ones. 

-Where's Frannie? Coming home soon?

His mouth didn't leave hers while asking, his hands already on their way beneath the layers of clothes a cold winter day required.

-At Maggie's, sleeping over.

-Good. Because, it's gonna be rough. I can't do nice now.

He used his body to move her backwards, his hips to make her back up to the wall. His mouth never left hers, his hands started methodically to remove her clothes, her coat, scarf, gloves, office jacket already a heap on the floor, followed by his thick leather jacket. Her blouse followed soon, some buttons didn't survive, scattered over the floor. He didn't take the time to get rid of his shirt but unclasped his belt, letting go of her for a short moment to do so.

-Get naked.

His voice is dark and low, she sensed all kinds of hidden emotions behind the brusqueness, but obeyed. 

Him playing his dominance unhidden by any kind of his usual tenderness and care was rare and she was aroused by the thought of the encounter to expect now. 

Slowly she lowered her pants, now nearly naked except of her underwear. She only could see his silhouette looming in front of her in the dark, heard the metallic soft sound of his zipper and trembled in anticipation.

-Underwear too, I said naked.

He suddenly was close again, had stepped forward, arms around her torso, to unclasp her bra. She felt his naked, hard cock pressing against her belly.

He kissed her shoulder, a short, tender gesture, whispering 'You okay with that? I need you.' and stepped back, giving her room to lower her panties.

She was naked now and reached out to pull him back close, searching for his mouth, hot and promising on hers. He kissed her, hard and deep, his hands coming up, fondling her breasts and her nipples greedily. 

She felt his cock, between her legs, grating at her entrance, his panting bespeaking his arousal and the urgency. She tried to arch her back, move her hips with a slight rotation upwards but his hips hold her in place, immobilized, with steady pressure. And just as it would be neccessary to underline he whispered, voice gravelly, hoarse

-No, you have no saying in this. Stay put. Beg. I'll do it anyway, but I'd like you to beg. I'd like you to want me.

-Quinn...

-This is not what I call begging.

She tried to turn her head, to reach his mouth to kiss him back, to move to get closer to his cock, but he held her pressed against the wall, his cock just grating at her entrance.

-Quinn...I want you to fuck me...

He let go of her, she felt a sudden cold on her skin where his hot skin had been pressed upon before, and turned her around, face to the wall. He brought his left hand forward, around her pelvis, between her legs, while his hardon was pressing against her backside. His hand rested between her legs, motionless.

-This wasn't begging either...I can do this for you...I can bring you off...or I can just do it for myself...it's gonna be quick then...just a quick, hard fuck...or we can make it...fun...for you too...it's your choice...

She was dripping wet and she knew he knew, behind all the starkness she heard the love, the amusement about her difficulties to surrender. He added a sudden pressure of his thumb on her clit and the surge of pleasure that brought to her let her knees dangle. But he had her. Probably she could just raise both her feet from the floor without any impact at all, he had her pressed against the wall, his breathing ragged against her ear.

-Please. Please. 

-Please what?

She'd pay him back, the day would come, she'd pay him back, she swore to herself. Another abrupt movement of his thumb made her nearly swoon.

-Please fuck me. I want you inside me. Please. Make me come.

-See, that's begging.

He entered her with one firm stroke, lifting her up with one arm around her torso at the same time. His other hand started to circle her clit with hard, strong movements. She was absolutely helpless, speared on his prick. 

He used his arm to rapidly move her up and down on his shaft, his hips thrusting upwards to meet the movements, while his other hand didn't stop stimulating her expertly. He panted heavy, she felt him hard and deep inside her, touching her innermost boundaries, possessing her and never letting her go. He never slid out, his movements were just a series of deep, hard, penetrating thrusts while he pushed her down on his hardon like a boneless ragdoll. His moaning was what finally was her undoing, together with a couple more pulsating movements of his thumbs, when he himself exploded into her after a few more forceful strokes. 

-Carrie, my god, Carrie...

She felt his cock throbbing, as he came in waves, spilling more of his semen into her, his arm clenching around her body and her own orgasm was one of the most intense she ever had had. Her vision blackened and if he hadn't hold her in a mercyless grip, pushing her up and down to extend the pleasure, she would fall, probably never able to get up again.

When he kind of controlled collapsed to the floor, into the heap of their clothes, he pulled her with him, still panting hard, bringing her somehow to turn around in the downwards movement, to cradle her in his arms.

-Carrie, my Carrie...please, don't go away...just stay here...with me...

It took another moment until she realized he was crying.

-Sh, I'm not going anywhere, I won't ever leave you.

-Did I hurt you?

She kissed him, softly, feeling all tenderness in the world for this man, soon her husband, here on the cold floor in the hallway of their home.

-No, you didn't. I wanted it as much as you did.

He was sobbing now, not holding anything back, and she knew it was coming now. Grief, anger and - hopefully - catharsis.

He got up, pulled her into standing position, still crying, and scooped her to carry her the few steps into the bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed with her, wrapping her in a tight, painful embrace.

-Why did she do this? Why did she leave me alone? How can I of all people judge her for that? Why didn't he not get out in time?

There were no answers, at least none he didn't know himself so she just wrapped her arms around him and let him cry it out. He had been seven, and there had been no-one else he could have turned to, no surviving parent, no loving aunt, he had every right for a belated mourning.

Eventually the desperate sobbing ebbed away and after a few shaky breaths they laid still, very close and arms wrapped around each other.

She shivered, it was cold. This seemed to connect him back with the present.

-Jesus, Carrie, you are freezing, why didn't you say that?

He released her, but only to fold back the blankets and help her crawling beneath them, then casting away his shirt and following her and pulling her close again.

-Better?

He felt her nodding in the dark. Now it was possible to talk, the worst, no actually most of his pain cried out, evaporated into the cold air of their guestroom, in that late winter afternoon. Somehow seeing that stone, learning about his mother's ashes and his father's last earthly leavings had made their death, the inclosed tragedy, so real. He had felt lost, sad, angry, helpless, out of control.

And had used the one ever-present salvation he now had. Since a year to the very day.

-That's a beautiful thing you did there for me. Thank you.

-Was it the right thing to do? It felt like, if I'd asked you before...

-That's propably right. But now, as it's there, it's perfect. 

She giggled.

-What's so funny about that?

-Sorry, nothing. I was just thinking, your dad and my dad having an argument about Irish Whiskey or Scottish Single Malt, on their cloud, now as we introduced them. Silly, I know.

-Really silly...but I still like it...my mum would back your dad, though, given her ancestry.

-You think they like us getting married?

-What's not to like about that thought? Which parent is not happy when his or her child is happy?

He was right, there was nothing to add to this.

-I'm sorry that I didn't notice it's a year today.

-It's not that you really had a choice, you were pretty mashed up.

-I'm glad you made that choice for me. 

He brought himself over her and started to kiss her, softly first, then more intense, deeper, slowly building passion up again. It wasn't long until he brought his weight onto his elbows, hovering abover her, and entered her again, slowly and gently this time. She welcomed him with spreading her legs further and soft moans against his mouth.

Their pace was slow and indolent this time and the things he whispered into her ear were sweet and tender, sweet nothings, not the earlier declarations of love and possession, but in a way even better than these.

Afterwards they laid still, wrapped around each other, for a long time, his cock still inside her, twitching every now and then.

-Carrie?

-Uhm.

-I need you to make a promise.

-What?

-It's not that I intend to get harmed in any way, anywhere. But in case anything ever happens, I need you to endure, to survive, and not to leave Frannie behind. And maybe the other kid one day...

-You really want that, uhm?

-One day, yes. You always had Maggie. It must be nice not to be alone, whatever might come. And we still need to test whose genes are more dominant.

She heard the smile in his voice.

-But about the sticking around? I need you to promise the same thing.

They stayed in bed for quite some time before Quinn got up, lit a fire and ordered indian take out for dinner. They were both too...done in...from the events of the afternoon. When the delivery guy rang the doorbell, Quinn remembered last second to kick Carrie's underwear, still scattered on the hallway floor, into the bedroom.

It was not before they snuggled on the couch after dinner, Carrie warm wrapped into one of his hoodies in his arm, that he asked her a question he had had at the back of his mind for nearly all evening.

-How did you make Dar cooperate?

-I had something he really wanted to have.

-A box of donuts? Or was it waffles?

-Donuts. Strawberry and chocolate. And an invitation for our wedding.

-He wanted that?

-More than anything.

-How did you know?

-My female instincts. My famous hunches.

-And?

She mocked a pout.

-That's not enough? Well, then, Saul.

-Dar Adal at our wedding...

-He promised to come up with a hell of a cover story. And asked if we want china or cutlery.

They both had to laugh at the notion of Dar picking mudane wedding presents.

-Well then, I guess, it's really time I pay him a visit, huh?


	51. Full Circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff ahoy....this is officially the most sappy thing I've ever written but that's the way things are in this AU here, finally.

He closed the door with a backward kick of his left foot and gently lowered her to the edge of the large bed at the other side of the room.

"If I don't get out of these heels in no time I'll scream," Carrie sighed "same goes for the hair needles..."

The shoes were off a second later, he gently took care of this, followed by her stockings, his shoes, socks, tie, vest and jacket.

"Remind me again, why didn't we go for a barefoot beach wedding, just you and me?"

He laughed and moved behind her starting to search and gently pull out the hair pins out of her hair, followed by diving his fingers into her hair and giving her a head massage. 

"Cause I wouldn't want to have missed a single second today."

"Me neither. Those black ops guys know how to party."

"They certainly do. Comes with the job. Did you hear when Maggie's neighbor Tricia asked Dar how he met us and he told her he was my history teacher in college?"

"No, but I loved when noisy Tricia asked Rob about his relationship with the groom and he said you met in Sunday school and are best friends, like brothers, ever since then."

"But when Otto told her being German and running a foundation for aid and development projects, she laughed and said she thinks it's one of those fake background stories spies come up with, because he was the prototype of the evil German."

"Poor Otto. Well, his toast will have taught her better."

They both chuckled at the memories of the day and she sighed from the relaxation his hands were giving her.

"So, this now would usually be the part where the newly weds fuck all night their brains out in all positions known to mankind, the most amazing sex of their lifetime, uhm?"

"You know, I never believed that."

"What?"

"The amazing sex thing. They are tired, tipsy, maybe even drunk, on emotional overdrive, in uncomfortable clothes and suffering from carbohydrate overload, and just then it's when they are having the sex of their lifetime?"

God bless Carrie Math...no, now Carrie Quinn's bluntness, he thought, amused and happy.

"So you wouldn't be disappointed if I suggest a bath and something boring sappy like just going to bed and making love to my wife? I even volunteer to be on top and do all the work."

"Sounds perfect to me."

"Because...," he trailed her carotic artery with his lips and she shivered "...the crazy, mind-blowing fucking you senseless...well, in Thailand we'll have a private pool on our deck...even the nights have about 30 degrees celsius...our hotel has a private beach...and some private islands where we can go with a boat...ah, and I forgot to mention our outside bathroom in the patio...maybe while you shower away the sand from the beach...plenty of options..."

He quickly disappeared to switch on the water for their bath and came back then, helping her to undress.

"I like that dress, did I mention that?" he asked while opening the line of tiny buttons along her spine, kissing every inch of skin revealed beneath the soft blue fabric.

"You did. In the morning when you picked me up from Maggie's, when you helped me out of the car, you whispered it into my ear before we walked down the aisle, and you said it again before we danced."

"Can't say it often enough...will you ever wear it again?"

"Depends on how grand you go in taking me out."

"I'll come up with something...that's kind of what I'd call clothed nakedness...I nearly lost it when I saw you in the morning..."

He was right, it was. Her dress was long, flowing, with a deep V, very deep, but carefully and delicately overlayered by embroidered, yet slightly transparent lace. Her illusion back and the cap sleeved shoulders were covered by the same transparent fabric, while the floaty long skirt was made from different layers of silk and lace. She looked stunning. And was his.

"I know," she giggled "it was quite fun to see your face when I came down the stairs. Maggie saw it too."

"How do you know?"

"She told me before we left. She whispered something like, I bet he's been waiting all day to get this dress off you..."

"Jeez, your sister...always so well-behaved...and then such a dirty, filthy mind...But she was right...it was really a good thing I had some time to get used to the sight and didn't set my eyes on you first time right at, or worse, in the church. I'd been quite distracted through the ceremony then."

He had finally managed to open all the twentyfive buttons and hooks on her back, silently thinking, this was much more delicate than cleaning and reassembling a rifle and wondering how one was supposed to do it in case one really expected hot urgent wedding night-sex, those buttons were tiny as fuck, kind of a modern chastity belt. But maybe, then just legs over the shoulders and not fumbling around with the dress...utterly exciting, alone the thought.

He stepped around her and helped her to slough off the delicate fabric and step out of it.

"Jeez, Carrie, you weren't bothering with any kind of underwear except this tiny nothing...fuck me..."

"I intend to, soon. But, the neckline was too deep on both sides, so I decided to go without."

"Great non-choice...good, I didn't know that before...at least you were wearing...well, one wouldn't do that tiny piece justice by calling it 'panties'..."

He put the dress on a nearby chair and turned back to her, looking down on his nearly, well very naked bride. She stepped close and smiled up to him.

"You were quite a sight too. How did you know to go for darkblue?" she asked while starting to open the buttons of his starched white shirt after pulling it out of his dark blue made-to-measure suit pants.

"Maggie. She kindly made sure I'm heading into the right direction. She was very sweet, actually. And I took Ruby and Josie to the fittings."

"How did that happen?" she laughed while taking care of his pants.

"They said they wanna make sure their aunt is not marrying a villain but a shiny knight and insisted on coming along. I took John and Frannie too, once. The day we went swimming before christmas."

"Poor man. I went all alone, had a glass of champagne and two girls just taking care of my needs. Although I immediatly knew it's that dress. But for the last fitting at the tailor shop for some adjustments I took Maggie. But four kids...wow..."

"Nothing I can't handle."

He took her hand and led her to the bathroom, helping her into the large bathtub.

She sighed when she sank into the hot water, stretching out her legs. When he climbed in it behind her back she leant back, against his chest, head at his shoulder.

"That's great...why is there a bottle of champagne?"

"I made...arrangements..."

"That's so cliché...and so sweet...but I'll get very lightheaded...you might have to carry me to bed then..."

"That's exactly what I ordered the champagne for..."

When they both had their glasses of bubbly at a convenient distance he pulled her close again, enjoying her naked body pressed against his in the warm water.

"What was your favourite moment?"

She considered his question a while before answering.

"I can't choose one. There were so many. Let's play. I tell you one of mine and then you tell me one of yours."

"I'm all ears."

"But not just the obvious, like when I said 'Yes, I do'."

"Well, but that's what a wedding is about...there were brides who made up their mind last minute and didn't say 'Yes, I do'..."

"You weren't actually fearing that, were you?" The sorrow in her voice was genuine.

"No, of course not. You made it pretty clear, that you wouldn't bail on me over the last year, so no, I wasn't fearing that. Although I was afraid you'd freak out and suggest something like a secret wedding in Las Vegas, when you called me last night."

Maggie had insisted on them spending the last night before the wedding apart, so Carrie and Frannie had settled once more in Maggie's and Bill's guestroom the evening before. Carrie had tried to fall asleep but her mind just had run wild. At 1am she had decided to fuck the so-called rules and had called him to ask him over. But he had gently told her he would certainly not want to be the one to get in trouble with Maggie. So she had silently left her sister's house to go home and had crawled into their bed five minutes later where she had fallen asleep in his arms soon. She had made her way back, unseen and unheard at six in the morning, just before Frannie had gotten awake.

"Okay, first moment: the way you looked at me after we made our vows."

"How you squeezed my hand while making your vow."

"Frannie bringing the rings and cuddling your legs, saying 'Daddy, you look funny today.'"

That had been so cute she'd nearly had started to cry. Maggie had been about to get up and get her but then John had come and gently taken Frannie's hand and whispered ' Come on, sweetie, our dad's busy here.' 

Which had caused Quinn to swallow hard, twice actually.

"Definetly a highlight: Kissing you when we stopped at the shoulder of the highway on the way to the restaurant."

"I knew there was a reason why you insisted on driving yourself."

That kiss had indeed been something and the way he had whispered 'I'm not done with you, Mrs Quinn, just wait....' had sent her right into a state of longing. She briefly had considered to miss their own wedding party and to head directly for the hotel room.

"Well, you certainly didn't expect that friendly peck in the church to be satisfying, did you? That was mediocre, not even that. Tricia gave me more, outside of the church."

"Yeah, she's been waiting for that one. That's why she came, finally giving the hot neighbor from down the lane a proper smacker. But, as for my kiss, severly making out after 'You may now kiss the bride' happens not even in movies. But...that in the car...that was indeed a good one..."

"I have another one: Astrid raising her eyebrows when the black ops guys were queing to kiss the bride their congratulations after church."

"She knows what they are, doesn't she?"

"She knows what I did, so no reason to lie to her."

"Actually it was strange to see them all so civilian and relaxed. But they certainly know how to party."

"They do. It's what they do when they're away from -"

"I know." She closed her hand around his, which laid lazily on one of her knees.

"I didn't see Dar leaving."

"Ruby did. She got grounded for two days by Bill for using bad language."

"What did she say? I certainly understand Dar triggering bad language though."

"She said the grumpy old man looked like an evil wizard from a fairy tale, lurking around to spill his venom, leaving when noticing the good forces won."

They both chuckled, Ruby kind of had hit a nail here.

"Maybe I should have a word with Bill, she shouldn't get punished on our wedding day. Besides, there was more truth in her words she might ever know. But, I guess, he got quite sentimental, he was my father's best man."

"I didn't know that. But I still have difficulties to see Dar's sentimental, soft side, you have to forgive me that. He and Saul left quite soon after the reception, Maggie said. Did Saul talk to you?"

"Yes, he asked me to ask you if you'd meet him for lunch after our honeymoon."

"Well, he could've asked that himself."

"I guess, he was too teary when he hugged you."

"Teary? You are kidding."

"Carrie...sometimes you are just...oblivious...you and Saul and your twisted relationship...ever read Sigmund Freud?"

"No, and I'm certainly not going to start that now. But, I promise, I'll figure it out with him. As soon as you meet with Dar for lunch."

"That's evil. Maybe we should invite them both for dinner together. Using our new cutlery and china. But Lockhart stayed long. His wife actually is a lovely person. But sadly no lasagna today."

"Yeah, I saw him dancing with my sister. And Astrid."

"While you danced with every single black ops in the room."

"Well, you don't enjoy dancing, but some of those guys really know how to swing their hips.

"And so do you...and just to remind you, I did dance with you."

His left hand wandered down suggestivly to the said hip, caressing her in the warm water, while he toed the faucet to add more hot water.

"Yeah, once."

"You were busy then."

"Just being nice with your friends."

"And Virgil. I didn't now the two of you do such a great swing together."

"Well, I still have some secrets. We did a class together way back. You know, seeing Max today made me missing Fara."

"Yeah, thought so too."

They were silent for a moment, Carrie safe in his embrace, their minds wandering back to those who hadn't had a chance to live long enough to spend the day with them.

"Lockhart said some very nice things to Max about her." Quinn had heard Lockhart and Max talking, well, Lockhart talking, Max listening, about Fara and had to admit that he never had misjudged anybody so completely as Andrew Lockhart, who turned out to be a kind and gentle man with a great sense of dry humour.

"Otto's speech," Carrie pulled his attention back to the present.

"That was indeed a nice surprise. Even if I am still thinking he once had a crush on you. What did he say? 'There are people born with wings and I was fortunate to work with one, who eventually became my dear friend - Carrie.' You know it made me realize why I felt comfortable and friendly with Otto right away, back in Berlin last summer. Because he saw through you and appreciated who you are. Makes me even forgive him oggling your derrière while you were dancing."

"Come on, you were fucking his love interest for years, he certainly knows that by now, so allow him some fun as well."

"I am all easy. I'm just glad Astrid was busy with Lockhart and didn't nap him."

"I guess, she'd be easy too. She knows he's all hers now. Actually, the later the evening the more he looked like a devoted puppy, admiring his german spy queen. I think that's gonna be the next wedding."

"Makes me happy for Astrid."

"Did you hear John talking to Dar?"

"Yeah, I did. Kind of saw it coming that Dar would try to get through him after he saw him in church. It's not that he can hide who he is."

"What did they talk about?"

"Dar told him he knew his grandparents. And then Tricia joined, asking him who he is because she saw him outside with the girls over christmas. John said, he visited his Dad, sister and Carrie. And then Tricia again, eager for some gossip 'So Carrie's your stepmother? And Johnny gave her a stare and 'No, she's way too cool for that, she's Carrie, she can shoot a rifle with the right and the left hand, and the bullet goes right into the inner each time.' And Dar, icecold, dead-friendly, oily smile 'That's true.' That was indeed fun."

"Well, he's your son. But how does he know?"

"Uhm, maybe I once told him...he asked me how we met, and his mum's a police officer, so we talked about if you have a gun too...and maybe I bragged a tiny bit..."

"That is weird. You can't brag about my field skills to your son."

"He can handle it. He's my son."

She manoevered to turn around, legs over his tighs and crossing behind his lower back, to face him. Suddenly she was very close - he was a fan.

They were silent for a moment, both enjoying each other's intimate presence. It had been a memorable, happy day, full of love, affection and laughter.

"Hey, Mrs. Quinn...can you say that again what you said before we went into the church? That was fucking beautiful and if I had to choose just one moment, that's the most precious moment of the day. Especially that you were so honest to promise just to try..."

These had been their own vows, not meant to be overheard by anybody else but them whereas during the service they had used a traditional vow.

Her arms went around his neck and she leant in as if to kiss him. But she stopped an inch away from his mouth and whispered

"I take you as you are, loving who you were, are now and who you are yet to become. I promise to never stop trying to listen to you, to support you and to accept your support. I will love you and have faith in your love for me, through all our years and all that life may bring us. - Now say yours again."

" I promise to be your lover, companion and friend, your toughest adversary, your comrade in adventure, your accomplice in mischief and your beacon stearing you clear of rocks when your world should ever turn dark again. I will never walk away. There will be good times and bad times - they do come and we'll work through them. You'll never be alone."

"I never took you as one for words. But that was fucking poetic. I like the parts about mischief and adventure."

"Well, we are who we are. And as you said, we can promise to never stop trying. Life is no fucking fairy tale, although today, it felt like."

"You know what? Before you go all philosophic, safe that for Thailand, I'm sure we'll find a temple for you, and bring your wife to bed."

"You are the boss, Mrs Quinn."

He got up and helped her into a standing position too, to lift her - now really bridal style - out of the bathtub. He briefly considered to wrap her in a towel but found it unneccessary, way too much fabric. There were enough blankets to make some wet.

So when he slowly lowered her down to bed and she pulled him close, there was no terrycloth to be arranged or pushed away to hinder their love-making. 

And as predicted it wasn't fucking their brains out all night in all positions known to mankind, but it was amazing, cause it was Carrie and she was his wife now - who'd ever thought that, years back in the ops room when they first met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the dress here: that dress, but in blue
> 
> https://mathewsbridalagency.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/divine_back.jpg
> 
> One more chapter, an epilog, some years later.
> 
> Today it's six months to the day that I started working on thid fic.


	52. Epilogue

Maggie Mathison had always been fond of her brother in law. Since she had met him the very first time on the day of her father's wake. 

For two reason, number one being: He brought out the very best of her sister with his stable presence and love. Number two: He was a genuinly kind man, adorable with children, with a great sense of dry humour who had seen a lot in the world, he was a most welcome addition to the family.

She never learnt what he'd done for a living exactly before he took over his new job as director of the US branch of the Düring foundation, but his vast knowledge about history, culture and conflicts in the Middle East, his fluency in five languages, includic Arabic and Farsi, and the nature of Carrie's long-term business gave her pretty much of an idea.

That, and that one night, when Ruby was on her third date with a boy from highschool who kind of misinterpreted the dating rules and had the bad luck of being witnessed in his unlucky and unfriendly attempts by Ruby's Uncle Peter. He came home from a late appointment at the White House just in time to see what was about to happen in a car which was unknown to him and therefore suspicious. Luckily, no harm was done to Ruby and the boy and his parents agreed on letting the matter rest in peace and not to pursue a law suit because of a broken nose and elbow. Maggie was extremely grateful whereas her sister gave her husband kind of a real chewing out, Maggie overheard the words 'your black ops days are over, he's a teenager, for fuck's sake'.

Over the years, he opened up a bit more, she learnt some bits and pieces about his early childhood, but he was never one to pour his feelings out. 

She saw his eyes moisten six times within the decades they lived on the same lane.

The first time was during Carrie's and his wedding, when the two of them walked down the aisle and Maggie herself was already lost in floods of tears, thinking how happy Frank would be now.

The second time was when Carrie relapsed into a manic episode. It were the early weeks of her pregnancy with Ella, a year after their wedding. Carrie had to lower and then switch her meds, suffered from bad morning sickness, Quinn had been travelling to some projects of the foundation for ten days, and found Carrie not in a good place when he came home. The following night was a downward spiral, ending in him and Maggie deciding that Carrie needed to be in a hospital for her and the baby's sake, after he had to kick open the bathroom door and disarmed her from her Glock. He had begged Maggie to do the drive so he could hold Carrie in a restraining grip himself, saying he couldn't have her put into a straight jacket by paramedics or police.

It had been horrible, ugly, heartbreaking. Carrie had been on a no contact-policy for a week, as brought in involuntarily, and Maggie had checked on Frannie and Quinn every day. He was pale, red-rimmed eyes, clenched jaw whenever she saw him, but kept it together. Just the fourth evening, she had been running late in the clinic, so it was past Frannie's bedtime, she found him in the upstairs bathroom, where he apparently just had hit his fist against the mirror, his hand was bleeding, the mirror broken and he was sobbing.

-I did this to her, Maggie. Because I wanted a baby with her. She was hesitant, exactly because of this. But I kept insisting. And I promised her to never leave her alone. But I went to Jordan, and now she's alone in the clinic since four days. She'll be so scared and I'm not there.

It was the only time that she ever touched him in another way as a short hug or friendly peck, he cried it out on her shoulder after she had dressed his wound and cleaned the bathroom. They never spoke about that night ever again.

Carrie came home 16 days later, meds levels all adjusted and working but Maggie could see a shadow of guilt on his face throughout all her sister's pregnancy. After Ella they decided their family was complete. And it was Carrie's last manic episode, whereas over the years depression was an issue every now and then.

The third time was the night after Ella's birth. Carrie was already asleep when Maggie came to the hospital and Quinn sat with the tiny bundle snuggled up in his arm on Carrie's bed, her sister curled up into his side, his free hand softly caressing her shoulder. Maggie sneaked into the dim room and when he looked up and smiled the brightest smile she'd ever seen from him, she saw he had been crying. But that had been good tears, tears of love and joy. 

The mild postpartal depression Carrie suffered over the following weeks  
was nothing in comparison to what they'd been through before. Her brother in law took six weeks off from work, just working the absolute unevitable at nights from home, and helped Carrie through bonding with Ella and adjusting in their new life, as well as his constant presence was a huge help for Frannie when her mum was often tired or in tears. 

He knew they were okay when they all cuddled in Carrie's and his bed on a Sunday morning, some couple of weeks later, and Frannie said, she already felt like Ella had been always there and Carrie kissed him over the girls' heads. Soon after, baby Ella had to spend a few hours outside her parents' bedroom for the first time.

The fourth time was dramatic. It was Thanksgiving, the year John turned 19, Frannie 15 and Ella 10. John had moved to Virginia when he was 15, after developing some very unhealthy habits, including a bunch of wrong friends, fast cars and not completely legal substances, at least not for his age. Julia and Ted needed a break, it had been a tough year for them, with Julia fighting breastcancer, thankfully succesful.

Quinn had been driving to Philadelphia each weekend, trying to ease things for Jules and to talk some sense into John but when one of John's so-called friends got arrested for armed robbery of a filling station, he snapped. 

John had to move to Virginia the same week, a brooding, angry teenager at that time. It had been tense weeks in the small house, the girls sharing a room to give John space of his own and Carrie often insisting that Quinn shouldn't give his son a too hard time. 

Things got better when Carrie took over, taking John often with her to the shooting range or for runs. He had always admired her and opened up with her, these days more as with Quinn. They went out for coffee or dinner after their exercises and with her he talked. 

Turnaround was finally when Quinn took John with him to Jordan, to visit two of the projects of the Düring foundation in refugee camps, it had been Carrie's idea. Quinn knew it was a bit of an unusual parenting approach but what the fuck. Without any distraction, no friends, no TV, no Ipad, no playstation, facing the fates of people who had lost everything just to save their lives, just to be stuck in the limbo of those large camps now, John folded and Quinn regained access to his son. 

They talked long hours every night, about Quinn's childhood and what that had made with him, how he had met Carrie and what that had implied, his relationship with John's mother, their relationship and John's place in Quinn's life.

John was a changed person when they came back, excelling at school, back to being the kind and quiet person he had been before adolescence hit, a wonderful big brother for the girls, especially his and Frannie's bond had always been close.

He decided to stay in DC and started college there, still living with the Quinns. Quiet years followed, no dramas, and whenever Quinn could take him along, he joined is father on trips to the Middle East, learning Arabic himself now.

So nobody felt prepared when Thanksgiving of the said year came, with a relaxed meal at her sister's and Peter's house, crowded with the the two families, Dar, Saul and his new wife and Virgil and Max as well as Virgil's girlfriend and their eight-year old daughter. Maggie had prepared two turkeys to feed the crowd whereas Carrie had made an array of side dishes and the kids, well, young adults now most of them, had been responsible for desserts and Peter and Bill for the drinks.

It had been way after the main course, they all had their second dessert, had savoured food, drinks and laughter when John, an attractive tall young man now, had gently knocked his fist on the table and raised his voice to announce he had joined the army yesterday, serving his country soon.

The following silence was unbearable. Peter stared at his son, Carrie stared at her husband, Ella sensed that something was going on and stared at her sister, Frannie stared at her mother, fearing one of her parents' rare but spectacular yelling matches, Dar choke on his drink...after endless seconds, her brother in law, still a tall, slender, energetic man in his early fifties, had hit with his fist on the table, some glasses jumping and breaking, and had yelled with a hoarse voice at his son that he thought, he'd taught him better and had stormed out of the room, tears in his eyes.

John had looked at Carrie, accusingly, saying "See, he always does that with me? I am a grown up man, I make my own choices." Ella had started crying and clinged to her brother's arm who shoved her away and stormed out of the room too. 

Frannie had been the one who kept an overview, telling her mom to follow dad "before he does something stupid" and asking their Uncle Dar to have a word with John "now, before he does something stupid, they are both equally stubborn".

It took them all night and the following day. Dar told John about his grandfather, and revealed some of Quinn's long kept secrets, Carrie tried to talk Quinn back into the house to talk with his son and Frannie tried to re-connect both parties frequently. Maggie dropped food and coffee every few hours, catching up with Frannie on the progress.

Only Saul was not really helpful, he looked distracted out of the window when it all happened. But he stayed and played boardgames with Ella.

In the end, the matter was solved. Neither John nor Quinn ever spoke about the hours-long talk they had, although Maggie was pretty sure her sister had gotten a full report from her husband, those two were always more of an item than two seperate persons.

John did not join the army but started to study law, followed by specialising on human rights law the following fall.

The days in the lane got more quiet over the years with the youngsters of both households moving out, one by one.

The house Carrie had bought years ago for herself and Frannie had been to small for a family of five but they never moved to a different place constantly, saying it was their home. But when John stayed permanently and Ella grew older, Peter built a wooden guesthouse in the garden, which was home to Carrie's and his bedroom and an en suite bathroom, the youngsters calling it "mum's and dad's love nest". At without knowing too much about it, Maggie thought, that's exactly what it is, because her brother in law still looked at her sister like she was his most precious possession, even when they fought, which happened every now and then. And still, once a week they had their date night, they never stopped that habit. Sometimes Maggie overheard some distinctive sounds from her sister's gardenhouse, when walking the dog for a late round around the block, and those were clear indicators too. 

When John and Frannie had moved out and it was only Ella who still lived with her parents, Carrie accepted a position as station chief in Italy. They did not sell or rent the house but kept it for holidays and moved back in three years later. Just the two of them, as Ella had decided to study art and history in Italy (which nearly broke Quinn's heart).

Two years later, Carrie quit active service, after Quinn had been shot during a trip to Jordan. Maggie never forgot the panic in Carrie's eyes when she'd received the call, then flying to Jordan in a plane of Otto the same night. Quinn recovered fully but didn't go back to his work with the foundation, saying he took that last survival as a loud and last warning.

They had bought an old olive oil mill in Italy during their stay there, it had been a hobby and holiday home but now they lived there permanently for a couple of years, restoring the place bit by bit by themselves, learning Italian and how to make decent olive oil.

During those years the fifth and sixth time happened. It was when Peter walked down his daughters down the aisle. Frannie had studied psychology and was a doctor, married to her highschool sweetheart and Ella, a few years later, married her italian gigolo, as Quinn named him, although he was a decent guy who had even agreed to settle stateside with Ella, to his mamma's dismay.

They returned permanently to their home stateside when their fifth grandchild was born, saying they were needed in the US now more than in Italy's olive oil business. The following year, grandchildren six and seven were born, Ella's twins.

So even if there is no happily ever after in real life, they came as close as anybody could come. And that's where they still are, here, in this universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Took me nearly seven months to write it. I'm a bit sad though. But in a good way.
> 
> Thank you for staying with me and keeping me going with your supportive comments. This story is told now, they can do it alone now. But there are other universes and other stories.


End file.
